Change In the Wind: The Side Stories
by veiland
Summary: I'm going to use one story to contain all my side stories from now on, so keep an eye on this story; it will be updated right along with Change in the Wind.
1. Don't Say Sht You Don't Mean

**A/N: ****This started life as a one-shot meant to be read after Chapter 19 of **_**Change in the Wind**_**. However, I've already written the next part, so keep an eye on this story. ****Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 19.5: Don't say sh*t you don't mean**

**Lula's POV**

Ain't this a bitch.

I love Tank, but the hardest thing to accept about him is the fact that he don't talk. Even now, he's sitting in my living room and he ain't said but 10 words to me so far.

We just sitting here, looking at each other like two bumps on an idiot log, waiting for the other to talk. No, that ain't right. He waiting for me to talk; I can't out quiet him.

"So lemme make sure I got this straight. You moving to Texas?"

Nod. That passes as a full sentence for him.

"You leaving in the morning?"

Nod.

"It's just you and Lester and Bobby, right?"

Nod.

I know my man. For any other woman this might sound like some gay shit but they tight. Tighter than tight. Tighter than tighty-whiteys on Tank's hiney the one time I ever seen him wear some undies.

"And you gon' be gone for a whole year?"

Nod.

"You coming back?"

Shrug.

I'm determined not to cry. I already did that at that damn expensive restaurant he took us to tonight. Boar? I snort. It's just fancy pig. Call it pig, Mr. Chef Man.

I love Tank. Love him with everything I got in me, and that's a lot. I ain't no small woman and he ain't no small man. It's a lot of love between us, but I don't understand how I'm supposed to take this right now. He's leaving. A man this good I expect to leave. I don't expect to keep him. I just try to enjoy him for as long as I can. Cause he gon' leave. They always have. They always do.

I wonder if we can just skip this and get to the goodbye fucking. If he's gon' dump my ass then I want my last fuck. I wanna ride the ride one more time cause ain't no man I ever been with (and it's a lot of them fuckers) ever been as big, as skilled, and as willing to please. That's a lotta chocolate thunder and I want mine.

Let's just get this shit over with.

I strip, right there, in the middle of my living room. The entire time, Tank's eyes got bigger and bigger and by the time Vickie's panties were sailing off to god knows where, I could see I'd awoken the beast. Yes. Sgt. Mandingo is awake and ready to report for duty. Come on soldier. Time for you to put in work.

* * *

The bed is about the only place I can get Tank to talk. And boy will he talk. The shit that comes out his mouth is dirty, filthy, some of it is nastier than the shit I heard as a 'ho and it gets me **hot**. And he's on it tonight. He's fucking me like it's the end times and we gon go out in a blaze. We've been at it for 4 hours and he still ain't out of energy. I am. Shit. I'm not making my living on my back no more and even when I did, Tank woulda wore me out.

I think he finally gets the point when I can only moan through the last orgasm. My throat is raw. My eyes are blurred with tears (where did them muthafuckas come from?), and my cooch is putting in for backup. We tired. He did his duty. He can stop now. He finally rolls off me and heads to the kitchen. He returns with a glass of ice water and some Tylenol. I take the pills, drink the water and look at him, sitting on the edge of my bed.

Good Lord Almighty, this man is mighty fine butt naked. Nothing but smooth black skin and muscles. He's a work of expensive art. Like one of them sculptures I saw, the thinker or something.

"Lula, you been acting funny with me lately. I can't tell what the hell we are. I don't know if we're together, if we're not, are we're just fucking or if it's more serious."

I'm so caught off guard by the fact that there's more than one word that I nearly miss what he said. Really? You can't tell? I just let you destroy my cooch in four hours and you can't tell if I'm serious? Fuck you. But I know not to say anything. In bed, in a bedroom is the only place Tank will catch some verbal diarrhea. Best to let him get it all out before I say anything.

"I've been clear. I don't really expect to get married but I do love you. That engagement stunt you pulled threw me, made me nervous. I don't know if I wanna go there again."

OK, I do regret that but hell, I was trying to keep you. One and only time I try some shit like that and it turns out yo' ass got cats. Cats. I can feel the hives well up. Make sure you take them with you to Texas.

"I'm not a man for leaving messages and begging you to call me back but I did. I left the messages. I kept an eye on my phone. I know you're in and out and I never try to fuck with yo flow so I was trying to be considerate of you."

And you and I both know I ain't used to that shit. Even after all this time, I'm still stunned when you open doors for me. When you treat me like I'm somebody with class and not a cheap 'ho.

"Telling you tonight, at the restaurant, that's not the way I wanted that shit to go down."

I'm glad Mary Lou is Steph's girl. Otherwise I might be tempted to kick her ass for being right. Damn. I'm out of water, so I move to go get some more. Tank takes the glass from me and returns with it full. See? Little shit like that. Knowing what I need and getting it without me having to say anything. I ain't used to that. It takes time to get used to that.

"Me, I'm serious. I'm serious about you, Tallulah. " He grins at my obvious irritation. I hate my name. "I love you. I want this to be serious between us. I know I've been fucking up lately, with my short temper, and if that scared you, I'm sorry. I had a lotta shit on my mind."

I blink. My nose starts running. An apology. Been a long long time since any man apologized for losing his temper. Usually I get those words after being backhanded.

Tank hands me some tissues. "This move to Texas, I'm not sure if it's gonna be permanent for me. You know I'm from Louisiana and that's home to me. The South. I'm sick of snow. I only stayed for Ranger."

I'm not sure how I want to take this sentence.

"Getting this branch up and running, that's gonna take some time. Like the 14-16 hour days I've been working here. So don't expect to hear from me anytime soon. But once things get settled, I wanna bring you out to see me. No bullshit, Lula Bear." He slides back into the bed, pulls me under him and grins. "Once things settle, I'm going to call. I'm going to want to bring you out to see it, see Texas, see Louisiana. I want to see you again. So when I call, be ready. I'm going to put you on a plane and bring you out to see where I'm from. If you still want me, get on the plane."

It's taking everything I got not to be mad at him right now. That's bullshit. I heard that before. 'Oh Lula baby, I love you. I want you to come with me, come to Jersey with me. Let's get married and move away from this place.' You know what I got outta that? A druggie boyfriend who turned into my pimp. And before I followed his ass to Jersey he wasn't a druggie. He wasn't a pimp. He was a man, a good man, just like Tank, who ended up pimpin' my ass. He told me he loved me and the next thing I know I'm flat on my back to support his habit. No. No way. I ain't moving for another man. I did that once and it took a homicidal boxer with a nasty, mean streak to get me out of that life.

I don't think Tank's noticed I ain't said nothing yet. He's sucking my nipple and sliding his fingers . . . oh God yes. My cooch is a bitch. Two glasses of water and some Tylenol and that heffa is eager to roll over for this man again.

And, since this is a good-bye fuck, he can have it. I ain't trusting yo promises. Don't say shit that you don't mean. You ain't promising me nothing I ain't heard before. I'm not trusting it.

Good-bye Tank.

* * *

**Connie's POV**

The man in front of me is handsome. 6ft. Brown hair. Brown eyes. No, brown with some green. He has an easy smile and straight, beautiful teeth. He's also the eighth candidate for Steph's job this week.

This isn't like the last time we tried to find a bounty hunter. This time, these people are serious. This shit economy means that people will try anything, so we aren't getting total losers this time. We're getting guys (and gals) who I would normally love to have, if not for Steph.

I was trying my best to hold on to her job, but Vinnie was a man possessed. The little weasel was determined to get someone hired into Steph's job, the quicker, the better and he wasn't letting anything stop him. Worse, he seemed to know something I didn't. It was almost as if he didn't **expect** Steph to come back.

Turns out, the weasel did know something. He knew she wasn't coming back well before I did. I wonder who blabbed. Not Steph; no way she woulda told him and not me. Her parents? Possibly. That's the only way I can see Vinnie finding out something before me.

I'd heard the rumors. That she got shot and broke her leg. If she got shot then I knew she could shake that off. She always does. But when she confirmed she had a broken leg, I couldn't help her for all the wishes in the world. I know about broken legs. I gave my ex-husband, Tony Farnese, a broken leg when I realized he cleaned out our bank accounts, right before we went to divorce. He was hobbling for months, and I told him to be grateful. Uncle Jimmy wasn't happy about my divorce and was looking to settle a score.

Once Tony's leg healed, Uncle Jimmy broke the other.

I know she's at Haywood now, running RangeMan. She made a mistake last night. She said she was running the office then she said Hal was. So I'm thinking Ranger is in the wind, Tank, Bobby, and Lester are going to Texas, and Steph's running the whole company. If I'm right, congratulations girl! I hope to God she and Ranger have got it straight between them. If not . . . you know what? I don't even want to think about that.

"Miss?"

Oh how cute. He's going for the soft-spoken, respectful routine. I want to tell him I'm not new at this game, I've been there, done that. I've been bribed for info on Steph, Steph's job, and Steph's stats for years. I'm old news at this. $50 says he asks me out on a date before he walks out the door.

"Yes, can I help you?" I smile back, the smile of the eager, the willing, the anxious to please. If he falls for it then he's dumber than I think.

"My name is David, David Pickens. I'm here to see a Vincent Plum?"

Oh shit. This is worse than I thought. This guy, David, is actually the kind of guy I would jump to hire. Former cop, retired. Good commendations. In excellent health. Willing to work for slave wages. Vinnie will hire him in a heartbeat.

I don't even have to say anything. Before I can turn toward Vinnie's office, the little slime ball is out here, smiling for all he's worth.

"David! Great to meet you. I'm Vinnie Plum. Come into my office and let's talk. Connie, you offer the man anything to drink?"

I'm glaring at Vinnie. No, you know damn well I didn't. You have the damn office bugged, remember?

David smiles at me. "No need, Connie. I'm not thirsty, but thank you."

I didn't offer you anything, David, remember?

He and Vinnie disappear into Vinnie's office and shut the door. 15 minutes later they return, smiling.

"Connie, David here is going to be our new BEA. We need to go ahead and get him set up. Authorizations, everything he needs. I want to review the folder before close of business today."

Translation: Don't stall. I'm watching and I want him ready to work.

I start handing David all the forms he needs to fill out (wondering if I'll have time to shred them and pin it on Vinnie before the office closes) when Barnyard-I mean, Joyce Barnhardt- walks in, clad in black leather. I hate this bitch. Serial mistress but she has the ability to be the bride when she wants to be. A lotta men have paid for a lotta work on that body. Mine's all natural, which is why I don't give her much thought.

Poor Steph. She doesn't have much of a chest to call her own and she should be grateful. Her B-cups mean that she doesn't have problems finding clothes like I do.

Joyce strolls over towards me, and David looks up to see who's entered. They do a full body scan of each other before David returns to his paperwork and Joyce turns to me. I don't have shit to say to her so I nod her towards Vinnie's office. Don't talk to me. I hate you. Sure enough, the sounds of quacking and mooing leak from Vinnie's office. I see David look at the door in astonishment.

"Welcome to Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. You'll learn to ignore that noise."

He turns toward me, still looking confused. "Who is that?"

"Joyce Barnhardt, another BEA. Not anyone for you to worry about. She can't catch a hint, let alone a skip."

"What's the noise?"

I smile. You'll learn soon enough, David. Joyce is only good for one thing.

I can see the black SUV pull up outside and I make a quick decision. I write a note for Hal.

_Hal,_

_Can you get me a full background on this guy? David Pickens, DOB 8-12-XX, SSN XXX-XX-XXXX. Vinnie's hired him for Steph's job and I want to know what I'm working with._

_Connie_

I still can't believe Hal is now in charge of RangeMan Trenton. Vinnie's gonna shit a brick when he finds out.

Hal walks in and I can see him scan David from the corner of his eye. I like Hal. He's quiet but sincere, a good man. He's just a bit too intense for me. All the RangeMen are. I clip the note to the top of the folders and smile.

"Congrats!"

He blinks. "Thanks. How did you . . . ?"

"Tank."

I can see a tiny smile. I see him glance at the note and raise his eyebrow. I arch an eyebrow at him. He flicks his eyes, without moving a muscle, toward David, who is watching us closely. I smile.

"Done. You'll get it ASAP."

"Thanks Hal." He leaves. I count the words. Nine. I think RangeMan requires 10 and under in all conversations. The sound of Tank's voice at dinner last night was a shocker. I tried to think of the last time he talked around me and couldn't. It may have been the first time I ever heard his voice, and the man should do voiceovers. Barry White has nothing on Tank.

Finally, David is finished with paperwork and approaches me. "Connie?"

"Yes?"

"Two things. One, can I get a copy of all that?"

SHIT! Now I'll have to pass the file over to Vinnie. I nod.

"Thanks. Second thing, what's the procedure?"

"Normally, when I get a skip, I'll call you to let you know you have a folder to pick up. You come grab the folder and it's on you to get him to the station. Get a body receipt, bring it back, and I'll cut the check."

"OK. What's my range?"

"You have all skips under $50,000, and you get 10% of the bond."

I can see him doing the math. At most, for one guy he'll get $4999. Slave wages, David. Hell, if you do an hourly comparison, he and I make the same amount of money.

"Any chance of my getting higher priced skips? I mean, I am a cop." He smiles charmingly.

So far, he's been pleasant and polite, but I'm no fool. There's just something about this guy. He's too smooth.

"You see the guy who just walked out of here? In all black?" He nods. "RangeMan. They get everything $50,000 and over. You want the higher priced ones, you talk to them. And don't ever ask me to slide you their files under the table. I won't and neither will Vinnie. If you take their files, you'll regret it."

I can see that conversation will never happen and the warning has been understood.

"I thought your former BEA caught a cop for $10,000."

"Special circumstance. They work with Trenton PD too, so they agreed not to touch it."

All hope of a big payday like Steph's first one is lost. Now to find out how much he'll actually make a month.

"So, what the busy months and what's the average?"

"Busy months are winter. No one wants to leave their nice warm house to appear in court. Best month will be January, for bonds written during the holidays. January you can clear about $5500, maybe more. Normal monthly average is $2500."

And out of that you have to pay your own taxes and healthcare. You're working for free. Congratulations, David. Welcome to Vincent Plum Bail Bonds.

The reality of his new job is settling in. This isn't glamorous 'Dog the Bounty Hunter' work. This is hand- to-mouth living. Still, I can see he's not giving up, and I already know what he's going to try. Morty tried too and it didn't work.

"So Connie, enough shop talk. What are you doing tomorrow night, say 8PM?"

I should write a book. Men are so predictable. Unlike Morty, he's handsome and well-mannered, and I haven't had a free night out on the town in a while. I'll give him a date but that's all he'll get.

"Where do you want to meet?" I ask, coyly.

"I'll pick you up. How about Mancini's?"

Mancini's is owned by my family and my Family. It's not a great location because they'll all drop by the table to try to meet him.

"Not fond of that place. How about Sorrenti's? They have a great stuffed mushroom appetizer. And I'll meet you there. I don't ride with anyone on first dates." I smile and he nods.

"Great! 8PM, Sorrenti's. I'll see you there."

Joyce walks out as he turns to leave, and I see them scan each other one last time before he walks out and she turns to me.

"Vinnie said to give me two bonds. And hurry it up, I got somewhere to be."

I knew the little rat would fold, so I hand her our two lowest bonds. $350 total. Take that, Barnyard.

I turn to do some filing (where the hell is Lula?) and when I look up I see David and Joyce shaking hands. I shrug.

He'll learn.

* * *

8PM the next night I'm in Sorrenti's foyer trying not to get pissed. I've called David twice and I don't like the fact that he's not answering. I realize that if he was running late and had tried to call me he wouldn't have reached me because I didn't give him my number, but at least I'm calling him.

Finally, at 8:05, he answers, sounding harassed.

"Connie? Oh god, Connie, I'm so sorry. I can't make it, and I realized I didn't have your number to call you and tell you. My ex-wife dropped the kids on me, and I didn't know how you felt about kids and how you'd feel about me bringing them along. I just got the phone away from my three year old."

I'd have been pissed, David. Good call on this one. I'll let it slide.

"No problem, David. Look, let me give you my number." I recite my number for him. "Sorry about the mix-up. I should have given you my number at the office. Look, I'll let you get back to your kids. Goodnight."

I wave at the maître d' and leave. I'm still hungry, so I decide to drop by my apartment and change then drop in at Mancini's. Free food and wine and my Uncle Jimmy reminding everyone to leave me alone about getting remarried. Yes. This sounds like a plan.

45 minutes later, I'm sitting in the 'Chef's Table' area of the restaurant when I get an unpleasant shock. David and Barnyard have walked into the restaurant. I check my phone; no missed calls. I'm beyond furious. This asshole dumped me, using his **kids** (if he has any) as an excuse, to go out with this easy lay. I motion to Robbie, the porter.

"Can you get me a gallon of water? And mix some tomato sauce in."

Robbie grins. "Who is he and do you need me to keep a watch?"

I nod. "The guy who just walked in with the woman in the short tight dress. At the maître d' stand."

Robbie looks and whistles. "Sure bet."

Exactly, Robbie. Exactly.

Five minutes later I have the necessary tools and I'm headed out to the parking lot. Robbie was kind enough to also provide gloves and the bus boys have a watch on him. I'll be warned in plenty of time.

I pop his gas tank (American Cars. Gotta love 'em. If this had been a foreign car I woulda been screwed) and take the rubber hose and feed it into the gallon of tomato water. I suck on it quickly to start the flow and when it's all systems go, I quickly stick the other end in his gas tank. As soon as the level gets low, Robbie brings me another 'special' concoction and I continue my work. 5 gallons later, I'm done.

Retribution is sweet. It was the sludgy kind of tomato sauce, the kind that's damn near impossible to get rid of.

I return to the kitchen and finish my meal. David and Barnyard are having a great time. I don't need to see any more of this. I know how it will end. I don't really care at this point.

David Pickens is now officially on my shit list. There will be no absolution for him either. He dumped me to go out with Barnyard. I should tell Vinnie; that'll really make his life miserable.

* * *

Hal drops by the next morning with the file. I knew something was up. Divorced, three kids. Well, at least he didn't lie about that. Problem is, they live in Maine. Asshole. The divorce could rival Steph's for nastiness. Serial philanderer, caught red-handed, and got cleaned out. That explains his willingness to take this job and move to Trenton. He's from Bordentown, about six miles from Trenton.

Mid-morning, I catch Vinnie heading into his office. I'm wondering how to start this conversation when I'm saved by his self-interest in his pencil dick.

"You give Joyce those files?"

"Yeah I did, some easy ones. That was a shitty move on your new employee, Vinnie, but it might turn out alright. She and David seem to be getting along."

Score! Vinnie immediately turns around. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I saw them shake hands outside the office yesterday and they went out to Mancini's last night. I dropped in to see Uncle Jimmy."

The seed has been planted and taken root. Vinnie knows Joyce is easy. Not even 24 hours after meeting him, Joyce has screwed his new employee.

David walks into the office, attempting to look contrite. Vinnie gives him a look that could peel paint and stalks off to his office, slamming the door.

David blinks, shocked. "What's with him?"

I smile.

"Word of caution. Don't fuck with the boss's toys. You were here. You heard the noises. You should've guessed."

David pales. He hadn't guessed, and now he realizes he's made a huge mistake. Not even 24 hours and he's already screwed up.

I hand him his files and an authorization card to apprehend on behalf of Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. He thanks me, still pale, and walks to the door.

"David?" He stops, at the door. "Another word of caution." He inclines his head, waiting.

"If you invite a lady out and later cancel on her, using **your** family as an excuse, don't take your replacement to **her** family's restaurant. Especially when **her** family is **Family**."


	2. Congratulations!

**A/N: This chapter is men being men. Don't read if you are easily offended.**

* * *

**Congratulations!**

**Hal's POV**

I'm currently bound, gagged and blindfolded. I have no idea what's going on or why. I just know who's going to pay for it.

Ram.

I trusted that man with my back, and the moment I turn it, I get hit with something that knocks me out. That's the last thing I remember. This would never have happened with Junior at my back.

* * *

It's been a hard month. Steph and I went through the duties assigned to the XO and CO and we realized (to my detriment and Steph's happiness) that a lot of the work that Ranger was doing at RMTrenton is work that is eventually taken on by the XO when the Leadership Core leaves. Just for verification, I called Danny to ask him about his workload and he confirmed that assumption.

It's a good thing I did. I would have been stuck with it on my own had I not, because Steph was determined to offload part of her workload somewhere and I was the likely target. Remembering Danny's advice, I called a meeting of the Core Team and we took a weekend to determine who was going to have which duties. So now, Steph has a lot less work and gets the fun of being responsible for the global picture of RangeMan while the Core Team gets the rest of the (not!) fun work of the branch.

I wasn't sure I wanted to be Tank, but I took the job because he and Ranger believe in me. Do you have any idea what that means to me?

I was the guy who was laughed at for months because this tiny woman, half my size, managed to fell me with my own stun gun. And I was the idiot who gave her the weapon! Tank had me on the mats for weeks for that and, at the time, I couldn't see the point. Yes, I messed up. I handed over my weapon. I allowed her to turn it against me. I allowed her to clear the building. I lost sight of her and allowed her to be kidnapped by hostiles. She was nearly killed.

But who has ever stopped Steph from doing what she pleased? And I wasn't sure what the SOPs were for her at the time. I knew that this woman was Ranger's woman. I knew she was important. Was I allowed to use force? Was I allowed to handle her bodily to keep her in the building? SOPs stated that her questions were to be answered promptly and truthfully. It had nothing on touching her or physical contact. There were no exceptions for her best welfare.

I still think she should have to put some time in on the mats with Tank for that.

* * *

_**Flashback in Italics**_

_Two months later, once my body and mind (but not my pride) healed, Ranger took me out to the woods for a refresher on maneuvers. I was certain he was still furious with me and that I was about to be allowed the opportunity to run for my life. After all, we were the only two in the SUV, and I was hoping that someone someday would find parts of my body for burial. So imagine my surprise when we arrive and he cuts audio monitoring and turns to me._

_"My first time out with Steph, I got shot."_

_I'm pretty certain my jaw hits my chest. Ranger? Ranger Mañoso? Carlos Mañoso got shot? He doesn't get shot. He shoots! He gets away! He's brilliant, like smoke, never seen, never heard, never sensed! My face must have been telegraphing these thoughts because he looks away and grimaces._

_"We were going after her first FTA, not Morelli but this asshole named Lonnie Dodd. He was way out of her league and armed and dangerous to boot. So I offered to back her up. She knocked on the front door, and like all idiots, he came sneaking out the back. I had him in my sights, told him to freeze and get down, when she comes tearing around the house. I tell her to put the cuffs on him, but of course, it's Steph. She's unprepared for this. So I take my eyes off this asshole, just for a moment, in order to pull my cuffs, when he shoots. She never checked him for weapons, I didn't tell her to check him for weapons because I assumed she had that much sense, and he still had a gun in his waistband. I got shot in the thigh, he goes running, and Steph manages a flying tackle to take him down."_

_Ranger shakes his head, and I'm imagining this scene but I can't. I simply can't imagine it. Ranger was shot? That literally never happens._

_"Tank had you on the mats for a few reasons._

_One: Never hand over your weapon, especially if you don't have a backup of the same type. Two: Never hand over your weapon unless you are headed into a situation where your backup having the weapon is necessary. Three: Always question why the 'friendly' doesn't have their own weapon, especially if they __**ask**__ you for your weapon. Four: Never underestimate the opponent. Five: Orders are orders. We gave you a pass on this one because we realized afterwards that the orders were vague. Six: If orders are unclear, then leadership is at fault. Question leadership for clarification. Make sure you understand. You didn't."_

_I have to agree with all those statements. They were all covered in Green Beret training. Idiot me for forgetting it. Lester approaches and Ranger waves him off._

_"Your time on the mats with Tank should not be seen as punishment for you. It is a reminder of what we expect. We expect you to push yourself to be better. We expect you never to fall for that trick again. We expect you to keep us accountable. We expect you to chime in with your suggestions and recommendations when you feel that there is a worthwhile change to be made."_

_We sit in silence for a moment while I consider what I've been told._

_Ranger's lips twitch. "You should know that in being stunned by Steph, you joined a very small and very influential club within RangeMan. It's not a public one, nor is it one that is discussed, but you'll spend time with the members this weekend."_

_I can't imagine what it could be. We exit the car, and I see all of Leadership sitting around a campfire in the middle of the Jersey woods. I sit in the offered chair and wait for the pronouncement of my fate._

_"Gentlemen, we have a new member of the 'Fallen Plum' society," Lester says, smiling. "Henry Linden, please stand."_

_Huh? 'Fallen Plum' Society? What's this?_

_"Membership in the 'Fallen Plum' society is based on two criteria: One: Having done something which your training and common sense should have prevented, and Two: Having done it because you either fell for some innocent trick of Stephanie Michelle Plum or because you made assumptions about her fitness later proven to be disastrously false."_

_"Gentleman, let me read the citation." Lester pulls out a piece of paper. "Membership is being extended to one Henry 'Hal' Linden for falling for the 'old blue eyes' routine."_

_At this Bobby and Ranger start laughing and Tank cracks a smile. Great. Now Leadership is laughing at me. Well, at least they took me out into the woods to laugh at me._

_"Hal Linden looked into Stephanie Plum's eyes and handed over his weapon. In doing so, he was stunned with his own weapon in front of his colleagues and coworkers. His momentary lapse in judgment led to the embarrassment of RangeMan being too late to the scene to effect a rescue and being upstaged by the world's ugliest cross-dresser with an Uzi and school bus."_

_At this point, Lester is barely coherent. Bobby and Ranger are rolling around on the ground in peals of laughter. Tank's shoulders are actually moving and there are tears streaming down his face. This was not my finest hour, and I'm certain, to this day, that my face was entirely purple. Lester finally pulls himself together and clears his throat. Bobby, Ranger and Tank all stand with smirks on their faces._

_"For your actions, Hal Linden, we present to you a new stun gun," from Tank "a new vest," from Ranger "and a box of bandages" from Bobby. "We also present you with a bottle of scotch, single malt, and cigars" from both Bobby and Lester, smiles on their faces._

_Tank slaps me on the back. It hurts. "I broke my leg with Steph." What?!_

_Bobby grimaces. "I managed to knock myself out with half a dozen syringes loaded with a sedative."_

_Ok, that was funny. I want to know how he did that._

_Tank cuts his eyes at Bobby. "And how did you do that, Brown?"_

_Thank you, Tank!_

_Bobby glares at me. "Repeat it and you will never see pain relief again." I nod. "I sat on the fucking syringes." I remind myself not to laugh right then, wait to laugh about that later. "Now you can tell him how you broke your leg."_

_Tank looks at me. There's no need; I won't say anything. "I fell. Out a building." There's more to that story, I know. How does one fall __**out**__ a building?_

_Lester groans. "I loaned Steph my car keys. To my perfectly restored, candy apple red, '66 Pontiac GTO. I didn't mean to toss her those keys, but it was supposed to be a simple grocery store run. Haven't seen that car since. Pretty sure it ended up at a chop shop. Since it led to my being able to purchase the BMW and the Range__ Rover, I shrugged it off." He shakes his head. "Eventually."_

_Ranger snorts. "After he cried for weeks. And I don't mean manly tears. I mean, a four-year-old having a tantrum tears." Lester glares at Ranger while I try not to laugh. I fail, but it's OK; my laughter is drowned out by Bobby and Tank. Finally, they look at Ranger. "I already told him." They nod, smiling._

_Lester snorts. "Shot in the goddamn thigh. Betcha he didn't tell you what Lonnie Dodd very nearly hit, did he?" Ranger lunges for Lester, who takes off. "Ranger might be half a man if Lonnie were a better shot."_

_OK, that was more than I ever wanted to know about my boss, but it was freakin' hilarious. And painful. Hilarious and painful. Bobby and Tank are rolling on the ground again. I'm certain I'm purple, and I join Bobby and Tank on the ground._

_We sit down and each man tells me the full story behind his inclusion in this club. I am the first person not in Leadership to join, and I realize that this is not a chance to embarrass me. This is their way of telling me that I am forgiven. That they understand why it happened, because it happened to them too. That they understand the ribbing I've been getting. They were all lucky enough to have it happen when no one, no other RangeMan, was around. I'm the one whose humiliation was public._

That weekend we sat around getting drunk, pissing in the woods, doing stuff I hadn't done since I left the Army. I felt like a valued member of the team. I had been forgiven. Tank and I went for a run, and he explained that to be the quiet guy meant you were always underestimated. You had to decide if you were going to fight it or use it to your advantage. He used it to his advantage. Since I color so easily, my thoughts would always be prominent on my face; I had to learn how to use that to my advantage.

Ranger admitted he was ready to fire me at first, until he saw the tape. Then he had to give me credit for lasting as long as I did in the face of a determined Steph. He said he'd put me in charge of her safety again, knowing that she'd have to shoot me to get past me a second time. I thanked him for the second chance and agreed but said I hoped it didn't come to that.

Ever since then, I've been more willing to ask questions. I've been more willing to take on responsibility. After that, the Leadership Core lost a _tiny_ bit of their God-like status in my eyes because they showed me that they were _somewhat_ human too. That stuff happens, but what matters is your response and what you learn from it. Steph was the great equalizer.

That weekend gave me the courage to approach Tank and ask for additional training. I think he was shocked by it, but I wanted to dispel the assumption that I was some big dumb oaf. Now no one approaches me on mats except Leadership Core and Hector. Apparently, being trained by Tank makes you an acceptable sparring partner for the Leadership Core Team when no one else is around.

No one takes me for granted anymore.

* * *

That's why I'm so furious right now. We—Ram, Manny, and I—had surveillance at this hole in the wall club on the south side of Trenton, so of course, we were all posted in the club trying to be inconspicuous. It was my first time out in the field in a month and I wasn't going to miss it. I had a table near the stage when I sensed someone approach me from the rear. I felt a prick, and that's all she wrote. I thought I was better. I didn't think I would be taken down so easily ever again.

The silence of the approach means it had to have been Ram who did me in.

Now I'm in a car, no, an SUV headed somewhere. I know that there are at least two people in this SUV. I can hear the breathing.

"He's awake." Manny.

"And he's angry." Ram, sounding amused. I work the gag out of my mouth.

"You're darn skippy I'm angry. If you guys rescued me, why am I still tied up and blindfolded?"

"Because we can."

I'm planning the retribution. It will be swift and merciless.

The car stops, and I'm left alone with one of these idiots for a long time. The other returns.

"We good?" Ram.

"Oh yeah, we're good." Manny. OK, so I was left alone with Ram. Wish I'd known. He's a dead man.

We park, and the door next to me opens. I'm waiting, trying to gauge where the opponent is, but they're being extra stealthy. This must be Ram. Man, I hate snipers. You never ever hear them, coming or going. I'm forced out of the SUV and I feel both of them take my arms and frog march me inside a building, into an elevator, and into a room.

I smell stale beer and something salty. Chips? Maybe pretzels? Coconut, so lotion? Not sure. The room is warm, too warm for the average April evening. It's also quiet, too quiet, which means there are more people here. Normal activity would have some noise. I still can't see or hear anything. My bindings are removed, I'm seated in a chair and I wait.

I'm going to kill Ram. I know where I am. This has to be a strip club.

Sure enough, my blindfold is removed and I blink to see the world's biggest breasts not two inches from my face. Dear God. Breasts. They don't appear to be surgically enhanced either.

I can't fight the erection. It's swift and merciless and a little bit painful. I'm sure I'm red too. It's been entirely too long since I've seen a pair of naked breasts willingly dangled in front of my face.

"Hell yeah, boys, let's get it poppin' in here!" Manny yells.

I can't take my eyes off the breasts in front of me, and as they start to move, I hear laughter. The music starts and at least 10 more strippers walk, dance, slide in.

"Been a minute, XO?" Woody laughs. I sense flashbulbs going off.

"Fuck off. I'm busy," I reply.

This response causes peals of laughter. Contrary to popular opinion, I know plenty of curse words. I was Army. They were issued with the blank face. I simply choose not to use them unless necessary. Right now they're necessary.

The stripper (is she still a stripper if all she has to strip is a G-string?) lowers herself onto my lap, starts to grind, stops, looks confused, then looks down. She grins, unzips my pants and feels around. Please lady, don't tease. He hasn't seen active duty in a long time, and if you aren't going to put him into action, don't mobilize him. She re-zips my pants, stands up, and pulls me to my feet.

"I think he deserves a private lap dance in the champagne room for a little while," she says to Ram.

Ram blinks, looks at me, and grins bigger than I've ever seen this man grin before in my life. What's a champagne room? I'm more a beer man to be honest. I don't really like champagne. As I follow the breasts wherever they may lead, I hear the words "champagne room" whispered and laughter break out.

An hour later, I not only know what a champagne room is, I've had nasty, dirty things done to me in one that I'm eager to repeat. They don't make women who are willing to do stuff like that in Kansas. If they do, I never found them. The ones I found in the Army you couldn't pay me to touch. My fantasies will never be able to compete again. And I verified that those breasts were definitely real.

I walk out the champagne room unsteady on my feet. It's not helped by the multitude of flashbulbs that suddenly go off in my face. Once the purple spots clear, I can see that all of RangeMan Trenton's leadership is here except Hector. Ram, Manny, Woody, Zip, Junior, Zero, Binkie, and Caesar are all here. Did I approve this gathering in one of the many thousand pieces of paper shoved in front of my face? No, I'm pretty certain I didn't. Oh God, did Steph? If Steph approved strippers at this party, I could never look her in the face again. There's at least twice as many strippers as men in this private party room. My clothes aren't on quite right, and the guys are rolling with laughter. Finally, Ram calls for attention.

"Gentlemen, we are here tonight not to celebrate our promotions. WE wouldn't go all out for that. WE are here to congratulate Hal Linden for having the biggest set of balls in our office!"

The guys cheer for me and I'm still trying to get my shirt back on right. The original stripper, Candy, approaches me with a beer and a wink. I had her wailing like a banshee 10 minutes ago, and I get the feeling I'll leave here with her phone number.

"Let me read the citation, direct from the Leadership Core Team." Oh Lord. What did Lester write this time?

"To Hal Linden, for his creativity in the creation and implementation of the Microsoft Outlook Calendars, for organizing and visually identifying the workload of RMTrenton;

For the Linden-King fight, sorry, 'discipline session', where he proved that he truly is a bad-ass muthafucka not to be trifled with;

For the Linden-Phillips showdown, where he took ownership of his new job and put his peer in check;

For his bravery the night of his promotion, when he had both the wits and courage to ask if he was going to have to be responsible for the CO, directly forcing the question no one wanted to ask and pushing her to take responsibility for her life, your lives, and the welfare of the company;

We do present Hal Linden with this envelope," Ram hands me a sealed envelope, "and this all-expenses paid weekend. Live it up, Hal! We are proud of you. And someone get a picture of his balls! We gotta get those bronzed!"

"It does not say that!" I reach for the paper and, by God, it does! I look up just in time to realize I'm too late to run. The guys have my pants around my ankles and are taking multiple shots of my crotch and laughing. Apparently that long last lipstick really does last.

It was the start to an excellent weekend. Ram had called Javier to ask him to cover our office for the weekend. All important paperwork was locked down tight, and Hector would be overseeing Javier so he didn't go snooping. We had two suites at the Borgata Casino and Hotel and we played poker, got drunk, and went to the strip clubs. I'd forgotten how much fun it could be to just hang out with the guys, my friends and co-workers, having fun. Yeah, we have a good time at RangeMan but it's usually work related. I make a mental note to ensure that the guys can get out and have more non-work related fun more often.

I call Candy (real name Candace) and we have an actual date. Like, we met somewhere, I brought flowers, we had dinner, we talked, then we went back to her apartment did things I'm almost embarrassed to remember. She's on my speed dial and wants to see me whenever I can get away. I wasn't that willing until she told me that my trip to the champagne room was not charged. That was her eagerness to see if I lived up to what her fingers suggested. My soldier is thrilled that he might see active duty a bit more often than never. Ram and Manny tried to tease me, but when I asked when they last got laid, they shut up. Yup, good to be me, but I tell them I'll cover for them if they find someone to get away with.

I shudder to think how much this weekend is costing the Leadership, but they insisted. I got my party. They got their pictures (I hope pictures of my crotch don't end up on the internet. Or the SharePoint site.) Once again, I feel like a valued member of the RangeMan team.

* * *

I waited until Sunday night to open the sealed envelope, and there were four notes and four checks inside. Personal notes and personal checks.

'Hal,

Thank you and congratulations. I appreciate you remembering to hold everyone accountable.

Bobby'

The check was for $10,000.

* * *

'Hal,

Thank you and congratulations. Feel free to ask the difficult questions.

Lester'

The check was for $10,000

* * *

I made a color copy of the last two checks and framed them with their notes.

'Hal,

Thank you and congratulations.

'If orders are unclear, then leadership is at fault. Question leadership for clarification. Make sure you understand.'

You did.

Ranger'

The check was for $15,000.

* * *

'Hal,

Proud of you. I expect great things.

Tank'

The check was for $15,000.


	3. Rebellion

**A/N: This is for everyone who wants to know how the Boston office views Mark! This takes place after Chapter 30 in _Change in the Wind._**

* * *

**Chapter 30.5: Rebellion**

**Patrick's POV**

Rodney and I leave Mark's office and walk to mine.

"It's past time, man. Round up the troops," Rodney says. I nod and send a quick text message to the leadership of RangeMan Boston, minus Mark. We'll meet at Legal Sea Foods and talk.

Twenty minutes later, the leadership of RMBoston is seated at LSF. We've ordered and the men are waiting. No knows why they're here except me and Rodney.

"Let's get down to business. You're here today because we, Rodney and I, are taking executive action against Mark."

The men are shocked and they look at the two of us suspiciously. I don't blame them. This has never before been done at RangeMan and we could all hang if this goes wrong.

"Before I tell you the full story, here's the deal. Your presence here today makes you complicit. If you open your mouth, I will cut you off and deny this meeting ever happened. We've brought you here today because we're determined not to go down with Mark, and we hope you choose to join us and save your own asses, but if you want to swing in the breeze, feel free. Understood?"

There are silent nods around the table.

"You don't have to join us in this rebellion. You don't have to do anything more than what we ask you to do. This will be a quiet rebellion, an insurrection if you will, but it will definitely be a team effort. We will hang together or Ranger and Lester will hang our asses separately on the mats."

The men nod.

Rodney takes a shuddering breath. "And Hector. Don't forget Hector."

The momentary look of panic on each man's face assures me that he understands the importance of this meeting.

"Here's the full story. Everyone is aware that the CO is Stephanie Plum, correct?"

Every man nods.

"Everyone is aware of the 'Bombshell Bounty Hunter' stories, correct?"

Again, nods and a few chuckles.

"And everyone is aware of the widespread assumption that she is Ranger's woman, right?"

Nods.

"Alright, here's what you're not aware of. She has a 100% capture rate. She's worked on and off at RMTrenton for the past three years. The Leadership Core has been putting her on the paperwork at a partner level for the past two years. You've seen the new lines of authority. You know she's the only step between us and the Leadership Core. I'm certain this move is permanent."

The men nod, quietly.

"With less than two months in her tenure at the head, the company has grown at least 3%. Mark's record was 5%. If she keeps going like this, they probably will make her a partner."

Our appetizers arrive and we take a moment to divvy up and chow down.

"We're not sure what's she's doing in these management reviews, but Danny is walking around like the proud cock. He's pretty certain he's going to pass, and he's managed to plug all leaks in Atlanta. Atlanta Bonds Enforcement went from last to second with her help, and I think she's won over the Atlanta men. Every time Rodney and I talk to anyone from Atlanta, it's full of praise about her."

"So why are we in rebellion?" Jason asks.

"Because Mark has gone off the deep end," Rodney replies. Our meals arrive and I'm glad he's taking over. I want to eat before it gets cold.

"Ranger's visit today was a warning to Mark that he's on thin ice, and he told me and Patrick we're on the ice with him. Mark's vendetta against the CO is personal, not professional. He's unhappy that Ranger put his woman in charge. He's upset he didn't know in advance. He's jealous and worried that they'll name her a partner before him. He's upset because he sees her as incompetent, unprepared, and out of her depth and yet she's still in charge. He's upset that no one close to her will talk about what she's doing. He's jealous that she's already managing to grow the company. And he's nervous about what she'll find when she comes here."

"There's nothing to find," Victor replies.

"And you know this because . . . ?" I ask. Every man is silent. "Like Rod just said, no one knows what she looks for in these reviews, but according to Danny, it's comprehensive. Now, if I take what I know about the CO, based on those stories, what I know is this: she's a damn good detective. She has good instincts. She finds things out, sometimes with little to no information to begin with. That won't be the case here. We submit weekly reports. She gets the financials. She'll come in armed with information. If there's something for her to find in our operation, she won't have to dig deep or work too hard to find it."

Rodney nods and continues. "The things Mark could do to show he supports Ranger's decision he's not doing, and the CO had enough today. She recorded a phone call between herself and Mark and sent it to the entire Leadership Core. The content of that phone call pissed Ranger off enough for him to appear here one hour later. One hour, men. He was _pissed_. My feeling: Our boss is dead man walking if he doesn't make a 180 turn around."

"OK, I get what you guys are saying, but that doesn't sound like Mark," Victor says. _Sigh_. Vic's always the hardest to convince. "Our boss is known for his level-headed decision making. He's not some kind of hothead, and that's the way you're painting him right now."

"I agree. OK, so Atlanta loves her. Trenton loves her. So what? Mark's always been in charge of the company," Mase adds, sitting back. "I agree with his assessment. Those Bombshell Bounty Hunter stories illustrate that she's shit at her real job. No training, no skills, no interest in improving, no experience in what she's doing now. Sorry, but I don't buy this. Mark's not some hot-head. The man is level headed, calm, cool, experienced. I'd follow him into a war zone. This does not make sense."

"Tell me this," Rod replies, "who would you follow into a war zone first: Mark or Ranger?"

Mase slumps in the chair. There's not a single man at the table who wouldn't follow Ranger into a death march through the Sahara over following Mark into a vacation paradise. The chances of making it out alive with Ranger in charge are exponentially greater. Hell, I'd follow any of the Leadership Core before Mark. My XO is a smart man, but the Leadership Core has four **brilliant** men.

"Next question," I add. "When have you ever known the Leadership Core to make a stupid decision?"

No one at the table has an answer. Leadership Core has occasionally made decisions **no one** could fathom (RMTrenton? Why Trenton?), but they've always been right. They don't share their process with us and that's their prerogative. We may not understand the decisions they make, but we've never seen them make a wrong one. If they have, they've covered that shit up quick.

"Right now we're giving you the facts," Rod says. "Pat may occasionally throw in his opinion, but it's one we share. At the moment, Mark refuses to see his new boss as anything other than a disaster. He refuses to give her the benefit of the doubt. He refuses to work with her, get close to her, and see if she really is a disaster or if she's just had strange shit happen to her."

I nod. "The essence of Ranger's visit today? If Mark gives the CO another problem that she calls the Leadership Core with, his family will be lucky to find his body. Assuming Ranger gets to him first. Hector is ready to kill him and Lester is probably sharpening the blades."

Every man gulps and takes a drink. There are a lot of frightened looks at the table. None of us wants Lester or Hector to show up here, especially not if they're angry.

"I want each of you to take a few moments and think about what Mark has said about the CO around you and ask yourselves this: What would Mark's reaction be if someone said that about Ranger? What would his reaction be if someone said that about him? Would he tolerate that disrespect? Then ask yourself, would you tolerate it on his behalf? On Ranger's?"

We all chow down. I can see each of the six men we've pulled thinking about this. This is the basis of the rebellion and every man has to make a choice.

Finally, Vic looks up. "I'm in."

Thank god. That was going to be the hardest nut to crack.

I look at Jason. "I'm in," he says.

Chaz nods, as does Bones.

Mase and Mario are looking at each other. I didn't expect them to be the last ones to speak, so I wonder what's holding them back.

"Before I sign on to this 'rebellion'," Mario says, "I want to know if you have any ideas why the Leadership Core didn't elevate Mark this time. Why put his woman in charge of the company when she isn't an employee and has no experience doing what's she's doing?"

It's a good question and I'm ready for it, but I look at Rodney. He nods.

"No one knows. The Leadership Core hasn't said anything and I doubt they ever will. You want my guess?"

Everyone nods.

"Alright. I think they passed on Mark because of the way he's been acting since Trenton came up. He's been acting as if his elevation to Leadership Core was in the bag. He's been treating the other XOs as if they're his subordinates instead of his colleagues and partners. My guess? This is meant to be a humbling for Mark, to remind him that the final decision is theirs to make. I heard part of the COs call. She accused him of being the leading cause of paranoia in the company. That's not a good description to be tagged with."

Rodney continues. "Plus, the information I would receive from Chase was at odds with what Mark would receive from Sam, so I'm certain Atlanta has been lying to us the entire time. Given that Sam will no longer talk to Mark, that means either they've discovered he was leaking to us or the CO has turned him too. Either way, no more information from Atlanta, which sucks because it means our only other chance to get info about her is going to be Miami. I don't trust shit from Miami that I can't verify three more times. To make matters worse, Mark came back from Trenton with his panties in a wad because no one would talk to him," Rodney adds.

"Not even King?" Vic asks, surprised.

"Especially not King," I reply. "He's loyal to his XO and told Mark to fuck off, that he was never going to be taken to the mats again. Hal's men live in fear of being called to the mats, and that's her home turf. Nothing out of Trenton was ever going to be negative anyway. Plus, whoever was feeding him information from Accounting has shut up. Don't know if they've been threatened or what, but it's as if his information sources have dried up overnight. Last thing we got out of them was the 3% number before everything went dark. Oh, and we got the results of what's going on in NYC."

"Oh yeah," Chaz says, smiling. "What happened there?"

"Javier got everything he wanted. Diego and Shane are switching, she's putting in a NYC differential, and she's sending Manny to help."

"Holy shit," Mase replies, stunned. Every man nods in shock.

"Exactly," Rod replies. "If Diego and Manny can fix NYC, she will have won them over before she even steps foot there. She already has Javier. That's three offices and three XOs under her thumb."

"This kind of behavior leads me to believe that the tide is turning," I declare. I look every man in the face before continuing. "Atlanta and NYC have decided to give the CO a chance. Miami and Boston will be the odd men out, Miami because of the sexism and Boston because of our XO if we choose to follow him down the road of his personal vendetta."

Mase and Mario look at each other and nod. "We're in," Mase says.

I can't help but smile. Good. The leadership is all in.

"Good. Here's the plan. Start talking to your men quietly. Make sure they understand that they should ignore Mark's opinion of our CO and make their own. Rod and I have told him to start participating in her calls and working with her. We'll get him to shut up publicly about her. We're working with him to pull his ass out the fire, but I don't know how far gone he is. We're going to pretend to dig for information on her but what we're really going to do is try to see if she really has Atlanta and NYC. If so, we stand with the CO when she comes to do the branch review. If not, we assess her when she comes to assess us. Either way, we'll let you know."

"What you need to know," Rod says, "is that we aren't doing this against Mark. We're doing this to save him. If it turns out that he's gotten the CO all wrong, that she's good at this job, and she can grow the company and help each branch, we don't want to be left in the cold because Mark's acting like an ass. If he's called this right, if she really is a disaster and makes a major mistake, then at least we will have come to that conclusion from a **professional** basis, not a personal one. We will focus on what she does for the company, not her background, not the stories we've heard."

I nod. "Remember, two months, 3%. Atlanta went from last in Bonds Enforcement to second. She worked with Javier to get everything he's been begging for over the last six months, which means she took on the Leadership and got them to agree with what **she** wanted. The woman has power. She used it on Javi's behalf. We should not be shut out because Mark won't work with her. "

"And the two biggest things you should never forget," Rodney says. He waits for every man to look at him. "One: she's Hector's partner, and he doesn't tolerate disrespect of her."

Everyone shivers. I never want to meet Hector again. I hope he chooses not to come to Boston with her.

"Two: the rumors are she's Ranger's woman. Who wants to be the unlucky fuck that pisses her off if that's true?" Every man is looking at his fingers or the table. "Ranger handed Mark his ass today simply because she called him and was angry or irritated about something Mark did. That's was only one hour after they spoke. One hour."

I can see that everyone is taking Rod's words seriously.

"Mark's a good leader. He's the right man for this branch. But if we want to keep him, now is the time for us to step up and support him. Now is the time to tell our leader to step back and stop making an ass of himself. If he intends to survive this year with her in charge, he has to quit seeing the CO as a personal enemy."

Rod takes a sip of water and looks around the table.

"Hell, Pat and I could be wrong. They may not make her a partner. She may be gone at the end of this year or whenever the Leadership Core is back together and ready to take the reins. But we shouldn't bank on that assumption. We should move forward under the assumption that this move is permanent. If they've been putting the woman on the paperwork for two years, they had a long-term strategy in place. I don't know if this is it but it very well may be. It's Leadership Core; they don't explain their rationale to us. They may even choose to make Mark a partner in a few years. But if Mark continues going like this, he'll never make it."

"This is the insurrection, guys," I tell them. "Support the CO. Make our XO shut up about her. Tell the men to make their own opinions. Rod and I will continue to keep an ear to the ground to determine if the company is still growing like it has been. When she comes to Boston, we support and/or assess her. We follow the Trenton SOPs in regards to her. We give her every assistance of the branch. If you have questions in regards to the CO, ask me or Rod. Don't approach Mark with it until we're certain he's got his shit straight. Understood?"

"**HUA!"** they reply quietly.

We finish our late lunch, each man consumed in his own thoughts. Rod and I have been planning this insurrection for a while, ever since he came back from Trenton. Personally, I think Mark's chance at being a partner is shot. If they were willing to promote a woman with no experience in the position over the man they've chosen each time, he's screwed himself. At this point, I think he's fighting for his job and possibly his life.

RangeMan brotherhood applies here. We won't let Mark hang himself, but we also won't let him take the branch down with him.

If Mark hangs, he most assuredly hangs alone.


	4. Girls Night Out

**Side Story: Girls' Night Out**

**Connie's POV**

Uncle Jimmy did a great job of keeping everyone off my back at dinner tonight. Thank god. If Steph ever asks why I don't accompany her to dinner at her house, the simple reason is I don't need to. I get it at home too. Why go experience her craziness?

Friday night and I'm bored out my skull. My sister had her kids over at dinner, which reminded me to look into tubal ligation again. Lula is back at her apartment, probably staring at the walls and missing Tank. She keeps denying it, but she hasn't been the same since he left. I wonder what Steph's up to.

"Steph?"

"Connie! Hey! What's going on?"

"Not much. What are you doing?"

I hear a sigh and some shifting. "Nothing. I just got back from Atlanta this afternoon, and I'm exhausted."

"Good trip?"

"Yeah. The office is doing well, and I had a lot of fun."

Good for her. I'm bored. "Look, I'm not doing anything this weekend. Let's get out and have some fun. Girls' weekend out. What do you say?"

_Sigh_. "I have to check with Hector. What are you thinking?"

"Geez, do you have to check everything with Hector?"

"Yeah," Steph laughs. "I've learned better. The first time I ditched Hector to go shopping with Lula, he caught up with us 15 minutes later and he was **not** happy. I'd prefer not to have Hector mad with me. It'll be fine. Hector is a great bag mule and he doesn't care what we talk about."

I'm trying to remember Hector. If I'm thinking about the right guy, he'd be a made man if he were Italian. "Skinny—well, lean—teardrops on the face? 5'9", with a 5 o'clock shadow and no English?"

"Yup, that's him."

The only RangeMan that actually scares me. Well, besides Ranger. The made men I know respect their reps, which tells me everything I need to know.

"Well, I'm thinking mani/pedis. Maybe a massage. Some shopping in Philly. Maybe a Chippendales showing in Philly. Whatcha think?"

Silence, then, "Chippendales in Philly?"

"Yeah. Mr. Rough and Ready is back."

"Dark hair, blue eyes, way too small G-string?

"Glad to see you remember."

Steph laughs. "Done. Let's get tables near the runway. I'll get the tickets."

"OK. Call Lula and get her on board. I'll call Mary Lou. Are you sure you're going to be able to go?"

"I guarantee it. Tell ML to meet up here at 7:45 tomorrow morning. We'll leave from here."

_Click_.

Hmm . . . Steph's starting to pick up RangeMan phone manners. Wonder if she knows.

* * *

Ever since Steph stopped working at the Bonds Office, I've struggled to find things to talk about with her. She doesn't stop by every day, so we don't get to talk about her skips. Vinnie's a boring subject, and we pretend Joyce doesn't exist. I refuse to talk about David. I have no love life to talk about, and Lula refuses to talk about what happened between her and Tank.

Morelli has disappeared and no one knows what happened to him. There's 50-50 odds of his body being discovered as a floater. We're giving 50-50 odds only because his mother **says** she speaks to him every week and knows he's alive, but the cops are certain he's not undercover.

Ranger's in the wind and there are coups happening all across the Middle East, so there's no telling which country he's in.

Has this been the basis of our friendship? Men and work? If so, it feels as if we're breaking apart because both are gone. I miss Steph and I'm determined not to lose my friend to something as basic as work. Men will never come between us.

I shake my head and call Mary Lou. Ever since Steph introduced us all, I've found I like Mary Lou. She's great to talk to and she's the only 'Happily Ever After' in the bunch. And it's with her high school sweetheart. If she weren't such a great person, I'd hate her on principle.

"Mary Lou?"

"Connie?"

"Hey, how are you?"

"I'm great!" I hear her cover the phone. "Lenny, can you get the boys ready for bed? Thanks! Sorry about that Connie, trying to get them in bed. What's up?"

"I just talked to Steph. She's back from Atlanta. I was thinking maybe we could all get together and have a girls' day? Massages, mani/pedi, a little shopping in Philly? Chippendales is going to be there and I'm sure we can get some tickets."

Mary Lou laughs. "Oh, that sounds great. I'm in. Steph coming?"

"Yeah. I told her to call Lula and get her on board. She's going to get the tickets. I know the owner of a great spa in Philly, so we should be able to get in tomorrow."

"Great! I'll cover dinner. We'll be in Philly, right?"

"Yeah. Steph's got her bodyguard, Hector, so I'm sure we'll all be in a RangeMan SUV."

Mary Lou laughs. "Never met him. Which one is he?" I describe Hector and it's silent for a moment. "Nope, pretty sure I haven't met him. Well, he's doing chauffeur and bodyguard duty? Just him?"

"Believe me, he's the only one needed."

"OK. Well, I've got the restaurant. What's Lula going to cover?"

"Not sure. Probably the shopping. If you need to find clothes, Lula knows where to go."

"OK. What time?"

"Let's meet up at RangeMan at 7:45."

"OK. See you tomorrow, Connie."

"See you tomorrow, ML."

_Click_.

* * *

7:45 the next morning, we're all on the first floor of RangeMan. I recognize this RangeMan.

"Cal, right?"

He nods. There are absolutely no emotions on his face, but the look in his eye suggests nervousness.

"Is Steph coming down?"

Another nod. The elevator opens and Steph appears with Hector in tow. "Come on. Let's hit the garage. Thanks Cal!" She waves and he nods back.

RangeMan. 10 words or less in all conversations. Total words from Cal: 0.

We head out to the garage and Hector clicks the remote to a Suburban. He opens the doors for Steph, Me, and Mary Lou. Lula waits on the other side of the SUV. He opens her door and we all climb in.

"OK, so here's the plan," I say. Everyone turns to look at me, including Hector, and I realize no one in this car speaks Spanish. "Um, Steph. How are we going to communicate with Hector?"

Steph smiles. "We have a pantomime thing going, but it helps if you write stuff down."

I don't see how this is going to work out, but I pull out a piece of paper and write the schedule as I explain. "OK, 8:30 to 2PM, shopping at King of Prussia. 3PM, massages, manicures, and pedicures at a Salon Patrice, 6PM dinner at one of nearby restaurants, then 8PM—"

"8PM, our evening's entertainment," Steph says, grinning. "No telling, Connie." She cuts her eyes toward Hector, who doesn't appear to be fooled. He's raised an eyebrow at Steph, but he looks amused.

"Do we have enough time to walk King of Prussia?" Mary Lou asks. "That usually requires an all day commitment."

Lula is grinning. "And we're women of substance and means. We got it like that. And we're giving the mall 5 ½ hours. I think we can manage."

I'm thinking I'll want that pedicure badly after 5 hours in a mall. Steph starts doing some pantomime with Hector, who nods and pulls out. I didn't understand a single thing she did, but he understood because we're on US 1 and I-276 in no time. 45 minutes later we're staring at the mall like true devotees.

"Shoes or undies?" Mary Lou asks.

"Shoes," we all chime.

* * *

By 2PM, I'm flat broke and ready for my massage. We all pile back into the SUVs and Steph types the salon into the GPS system. Hector takes off and 30 minutes later we're there. Patrice is an old friend of mine and she's smiling.

"Connie! Great to see you honey. How's Tony?"

Hell if I know or care. "Don't know, Patrice," I tell her, smiling. "Probably hoping to never run into Uncle Jimmy again."

Patrice laughs. "Don't blame him. Two legs, 2 years spent hobbling, and I thought you were being nice." We both laugh. "OK, well, I have three masseuses here, so I can do three of you at once and the other two get the mani/pedis. How do you want to break this down?"

We hadn't considered Hector, but he looks slightly amused. Steph answers before I can say anything.

"Hector and I are together." We look at her and she shrugs. "No matter what, he's not going to let me out of his sight, so it's default."

Hector is cramping this little girl weekend, but I shrug. Hazard of Steph's new life, I suppose. ML, Lula and I head off to the massage room while Steph and Hector take off for a pedicure.

"OK, Hector's cool and all, but he's cramping this," Lula says, irritated.

I shrug. I want to see what ML says.

She shrugs. "I thought that too, but we've talked quite a bit since she took this job. It's something she hates but accepts. To work at RangeMan means accepting a partner. Hector is hers. She said the only thing that made it work is the knowledge that as long as Hector knows where she is or is OK with accompanying her, she has more freedom than most people with a RangeMan bodyguard. They're proud of never losing a client."

Lula still looks irritated, so I turn to her. "When have you ever seen Ranger without Tank? Or Tank without Ranger?"

"I see Tank without Ranger all the time."

"Yeah," ML says, "but that's only when they're something called 'offline'. Steph said she can't be without a guard until she meets standards, until they're confident she can disarm threats on her own."

Lula pouts. I don't think she ever considered that. We all strip and lie down, ready for an hour's pampering.

"Well, it still seems like we gotta put in a request to get her out that building. You can't get past them RangeMen to get at her, and if you get her out the building, Hector's gonna be with her. You can't do nothing spontaneous with her no more."

The masseuses get started on us and I request more time in the shoulders. I have no idea how long they work on us before I hear ML speak.

"You know, at first I was frustrated by all this too. I'd leave messages for Steph to call and not get an answer for days. My boys miss Aunt Stephie and it seemed like every gossip in the Burg was stopping me at the grocery store for news on her." ML moans and we smile. "Sorry. Anyway, my point is this. After a while, I blew up on the phone at her and it was the worst thing I could have done. I forgot that Steph had been dropped in the middle of a completely new situation. She's running Ranger's company, his multi-million dollar security company with hundreds of employees and buildings and contracts, et cetera and so forth. I felt horrible, like the worst best friend ever."

We flip and the masseuses start on the other side. "In the meantime, in order to get away from Hector and all the RangeMen, she has to spend hours trying to get up to RangeMan standards. Now, which one of us wants to admit that Steph doesn't need training?"

We're silent. I've wondered for years why Ranger didn't force her to get training and I finally realized that Ranger wasn't going to force her to do something she didn't want to do. She wasn't his employee, she was Vinnie's and Vinnie didn't give a damn as long as she brought in his skips. Ranger gave her tips and loaned her men and cars. It was as far as he could go.

I sigh. "You're right. She needs the training. She's needed it for years."

"Why?" asks Lula. "She's been doing the job for four years. She's always gotten her man. Why in the hell does everyone think she needs this training now?"

I shake my head mentally. She needs it for the same reason you do, Lula. Because at some point, Trenton's going to declare you two menaces to public safety. Mary Lou's answer is more to the point.

"Lula, do you want Stephanie to die?"

"Hell no! Of course not!"

"How many times has she cheated death?"

We stop to count. I stop after 20.

"Exactly. Look, I don't know what's necessary to be a bounty hunter, but they got her a trainer and they're teaching her to shoot and pick locks, and do all that stuff. Her day starts a 5:30 and she says she's lucky when she's in bed by 10."

I consider this. That sounds horrible, and Steph won't last long. Not if she doesn't get some breaks.

"Steph's not even working a 9 to 5. She's working 14 hour days six days a week, and that's **after** dropping some of the workload on Hal. I can't imagine what her life is like now, so I just leave her encouraging messages. Remind her that getting out the house on weekends is still an idea. Remind her if she wants to talk all she has to do is call me."

We lie in silence and consider ML's words.

"Honestly, this reminds me of right after I had Junior. I was exhausted, housebound, barely cooking, eating or bathing myself because I was responsible for this new little life, and Steph was still single. She could still go out, have fun, be free and we had a God-awful fight one night because I couldn't join her for dinner. It was bad. We didn't speak for a week, and at that point in our lives, we spoke every day."

I can hear the tears in ML's voice and I reach for and squeeze her hand. Finally, ML speaks again.

"Eventually, we made up, but it meant changes in our friendship. Steph had to accept that my son and husband would come before her. I was responsible to them first. And I had to stop being resentful of the fact that Steph was free. She didn't have a husband and child tying her down, and I did resent it at 3AM when Junior wouldn't stop screaming. To me, this is the same situation. My boys are older and Lenny is able to take them at a moment's notice so I can get out, but Steph's tied down. She can't get away without advance planning and when she does get out, she has a guard. I can't and won't argue with the restrictions on her life because I know they're there to keep her alive, so I accept Hector and the RangeMen."

"Yeah, I understand all that, but it don't make no sense that they treat us, her friends, like we just anybody. We ain't just anybody! We're the ones who've had her back for the past four years. We support her. Why can't we go see her and why can't she come see us at the office?"

"Because her life has changed, Lula," I answer, weary. ML is right, as usual. "Steph is Ranger now. She has a schedule and responsibilities. She's doing Ranger's job and she doesn't have any experience at it so she's learning as she goes. It takes her longer to do the same stuff. It's not like she won't come see us. She came out this weekend, agreed to it the moment I suggested it. It's just that we can't just call her to go somewhere and expect her to go right then. It has to be planned."

"Yeah," Mary Lou says. "Just like me. You guys get to do stuff all the time and if you don't tell me in advance so I can get the boys settled away, then I can't go. Steph's in the same situation."

"And we can't see her because?"

"RangeMan is a secure building. You don't get in unless you work there," ML answers. "I asked too."

It's silent in the room before I hear the sniffles. "He hasn't called, has he?"

"He's called," Lula says quietly. "I don't answer."

"Why?" ML asks.

It's quiet before Lula answers. "It's over between us. He left, moved to Texas. I don't do long-distance."

"They'll be back."

"He told me it'd probably be permanent."

Damn. Sorry Lula.

* * *

**Hector's POV**

_Angelita_ won't tell me where we are going. She just gives me directions with a small smile on her face.

This makes me very nervous.

The other women are having a great time in the back. They're talking, laughing, and complimenting each other on shoes and purses. I shrug mentally. I picked up two new pairs of shoes and some new shirts. _Angelita_ will never believe it, but I like shoes too. Men's shoes are much simpler, but it's all about the cut and the quality. Finding quality men's shoes is a hunt. My true passions are neckties and cologne. I have at least 75 neckties, probably more. I never get to truly dress up in this job, but I'm prepared if I have to. I have no idea how many bottles of cologne I own, but I use them on a constant basis.

I will never tell the men, but I had fun on this 'girls' day out'. My massage was nice, although the masseuse seems disturbed by the fact that I had to remove five weapons before she could touch me. And by the fact that I kept two of them within reach at all times. She earned her money; my body is almost completely muscle. I'm a RangeMan. It's part of my job to keep myself in top shape. I still can't believe I allowed someone to touch me for an hour without bloodshed. I should consider this more often.

I really enjoyed the pedicure and manicure. I never realized my feet were so calloused nor that I had an ingrown toenail. My toes hurt (what was she doing? Drilling for oil?), but my heels feel fantastic. Warm water, a foot massage, hot wax treatment, that was an excellent idea. Money very well spent. I examine my fingernails. Not sure about this high buff shine, though. Looks like polish to me.

Still, I will talk to _Angelita_ about her getting together with her friends to do that at least once a month. If this is what women get together and do during these girl weekends, I'll consider it. It felt nice to be pampered. I could use more foot rubs.

As we pull into the parking lot, I realize what my precious little Angel is up to.

Chippendales.

The opportunity to ogle other men for at least an hour without anyone commenting on it? I love my partner. These 'girl's weekends' need a regular schedule.

I turn to Stephanie. "_Dulce Angelita, te atesoro. Este es el final de un día maravilloso._" (Sweet _Angelita_, I treasure you. This is the end to a wonderful day.)

_Angelita_ grins. "I'm not sure what you said, but if it's what I think, _muy bienvenido, mi amigo_." (very welcome, my friend). We laugh and I escort the women from the SUV into the venue. Steph slides next to me. "Drinks are on me," she whispers. "I need to do something to say thank you, for taking me on and for helping me."

I grin. There is no one else in the company I would even consider partnering with. _Angelita_ is so innocent and trusting; it's one of her better qualities. I want her to improve, but I don't want her to lose sight of who she is. Every other man in the company, including Ranger, might have drummed that quality out of her, but not me. I just want her to be on her guard more.

I like to be needed, and _Angelita_, well, _Angelita_ needs me.

We approach the venue and I flip to my PA armed security guard license to allow me to carry into the venue. The guards at the door spend a ridiculous amount of time examining it before letting us through. I think the fact that there are at least 100 excited, frustrated, irritated, and horny women behind us encourage them to move it along. We find our tables and the ladies look at me in surprise, so I pass my license to _Angelita_. The ladies all examine the license.

"How many of the guys have these?" _Angelita_ asks. I raise an eyebrow, so she points to the RangeMan T-Shirt and pantomimes counting on her fingers.

"All."

She blinks. Lula looks at me and says, "I thought you said he didn't speak English."

"He speaks some. Not much."

Lula hurrumphs. "I don't know what 'all' is in Spanish."

"_Todo_," Steph says absentmindedly, flipping through all my licenses. She seems intrigued for some reason. The women are looking at her in surprise. She looks up and shrugs. "I can't pantomime all the time."

The women are looking at us in suspicion, but I'm proud of _Angelita_. She's keeping my secret well and she's learning. I would've answered in Spanish if I'd known she knew that word. Eventually, they all start talking about the dancers, who they're looking forward to seeing and who's worth taking a bathroom break during.

I need to see this dancer they keep talking about, Rough and Ready. The waitress takes our drink orders and I nurse a Sprite while waiting for this show to begin.

Finally, it starts and, although I have my blank face firmly in place, well, some other parts of me are definitely showing less restraint. I'm grateful I had enough forethought to wear the loose cargoes. I'm now a fan of girl weekends. Men don't do this when they get together. We aren't going to comment on how another man looks in his boxers or how a particular cologne smells on him. Fart, watch sports, drink and, if you're a straight man, fantasize about women you'll never be able to fuck or look at strippers. That's the ideal guy weekend.

I'm loving the tight jeans and the ingenious ways they come up with to strip to music. Our table is at an angle and, as long as Lula stays seated, I can see a hell of a lot. I gulp my water. Steph leans over and pats my thigh, except she misses my thigh completely. She looks shocked, then embarrassed, but when I grin at her, she starts laughing. We're having a good time and there are plenty of screaming women, which gives her the opportunity to whisper, "Rough and Ready is next. I see him backstage."

He appears and I'm astonished. I'm not jealous, but I'm feeling a little envy. It's like the first time I saw Lester and Ranger stripped down. They aren't my type, but Jesus, who wouldn't feel faint looking at them. _Gracias a Dios_, I got over that quick. Would've been awkward otherwise. Rough and Ready is definitely giving me a Lester moment.

I quickly down my water. I'm feeling a little faint. _Angelita_ smiles and passes me her water. I smile, gratefully, and down her glass. The Chippendales start scanning the crowd and I can see one grin at _Angelita_. I quickly move into the line of sight and frown, but still he comes down and attempts to pull _Angelita_ on stage. I'm not a fan of this, and _Angelita_ notices my face. She blushes and shakes her head and hands the Chippendale over to Connie. He takes one look at Connie and grins bigger and quickly pulls her and Lula onto the stage.

I'm having a bad feeling about that combination.

The music starts, "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy." Am I the only person tired of this song? I get over it as the men dance and they tie Connie up. Lula isn't nearly as compliant. She's grabbing every dancer she can, trying to get at his goods, and I can tell that the man who pulled her onstage realizes his mistake. Finally, they strip the shirts (where is the water?) and do a few hip thrusts before stripping . . .

_Angelita_ has flagged down a waitress and gotten a pitcher. Just in time.

The dancers drop their jeans, cover their crotches with the cowboy hats and turn around. It's like the Full Monty, and I'm in seventh heaven. The man closest to me has an amazingly tight ass and not everything is hidden by that hat. All the men are facing forward again. Connie has her hands around one man's midsection and, I'm not sure what she's doing, but if she keeps it up his hat will be able to hide the goods without him holding it in place. Meanwhile, Lula takes direct action. She finds a Bobby look-a-like, smiles at him big, waits for him to wink at her, then steals his cowboy hat and darts out of arm's reach.

I love Lula.

I can't look away and I'm grinning. _Angelita_ has disappeared under the table with Mary Lou in hysterics and Connie seems hypnotized by the penis dangling in front of her. So am I. That's one to be jealous of.

The music has stopped and the dancer is trying to get his hat back. Lula bends over, looks intently and shrugs. "Very impressive, but Tank's got him by a mile," she yells to _Angelita_, who blushes and slumps in the seat. The dancer blushes, steals his hat back and the curtain drops with Connie and Lula on the other side with the dancers.

Now, I can laugh. Poor man, but it doesn't seem to inhibit the 20 or so women who have stormed the stage after the poor guy.

My _Angelita_. Mayhem and confusion are her friends and today, they carry the names Lula and Connie. Finally, Lula and Connie come from behind the curtains, both sporting cowboy hats and big grins.

"This was a great idea, Steph! Those guys are hung!" Connie giggles. They have two more hats for _Angelita_ and Mary Lou. The ladies toast each other and their weekend, big grins on their faces.

I have tears of laughter running down my face. This needs to be a semimonthly thing. I love Girls Night Out.


	5. Hector v Edna: The Truce

**Chapter 37.5: Hector v. Edna: the Truce**

**Hector's POV**

Wednesday night's dinner at the Plums' set a record for the most times I've ever been tempted to vomit in my mouth. Only my training and my desire to assess the Plum parents prevented me from coming back at Edna. Plus, I had nothing. I've been so wrapped up in trying to pull intelligence for Ranger that I haven't had a chance to assess the ground conditions in my war with Granny Mazur.

Now, I have a plan. I'm going to flip the old lady tonight. I think she gets the idea about not touching me. I noticed that she not only refrained from pinching and patting me, but she didn't touch a single RangeMan at dinner. I only noticed because all of them were watching her. They were waiting for it.

I don't want to break Edna's spirit. Far from it. Edna is _Angelita_ in 50 years, so she makes a good baseline on how far I can take my _Angelita_ before she breaks. Now that it appears that Edna has the idea about appropriate touch, I can move forward with my plan. I check on _Angelita_. She's in for the night, although she looks pale and tired. I intend to execute this part of the plan on her next, but I'll test it on Granny Mazur. Let's see how this works.

I spend some quality time in the bath. Shower, shave, cologne layered on. I'm looking good and smelling right. I deliberate one of my seldom used ties and pull my freshly pressed suit. Ella looked confused when I explained tonight's plan but she nodded. She doesn't understand all the implications, but I'm ready. I head to the garage and slide into my Lexus. I'm sure if Ranger knew what I was up to, he'd raise an eyebrow but he'd support me. And ask me if I was wearing my cup, just in case.

I cruise over to _Angelita_'s old apartment. 5PM. Right on time. I head up the stairs and knock on the door.

"Who is it?"

"Hector."

I can hear the latch being pulled and she cracks the door open, staring at me in confusion. I have a bouquet of roses and I'm dressed to kill.

"You're not hiding a machine gun behind those flowers, are you?" she asks. She can't raise one eyebrow either and the effect is comical.

I shake my head. "May I come in?"

She opens the door fully and steps back. I enter the apartment and stand in front of _Angelita_'s old couch. She joins me in the living room in confusion.

"I have reservations for two at Campo's in Philly tonight at 7 PM. Will you join me? I have a situation I'd like to discuss with you."

Yes, this is exactly how I expect _Angelita_ to respond. Complete confusion. Then, the difference between them: no questions from Granny Mazur; she has a hot date tonight! She's gonna get ready. Thirty minutes later, I'm looking at a decently elegant Granny Mazur. She's decided to pair a long skirt with a tank top blouse and a silk overshirt. Contrary to popular belief, not all gay men get fashion. I certainly don't, but I do understand personal grooming. Granny Mazur has bathed in Stephanie's perfume.

I hide a smile. Well, she's trying.

Edna takes the roses from me, sniffs appreciatively (I bought scented roses. Those cost a grip!), and smiles. She can't find an appropriate vase for them, so she empties _Angelita_'s cookie jar and fills it with water. I smile; that's a more appropriate use for the cookie jar. She hunts down her purse, keys, and a small cell phone and turns to me.

"Well, I'm not getting any younger. Let's go!"

* * *

The drive to Campo's is quiet. Edna seems more interested in examining my car than in talking, for once. We arrive at Campo's just in time for the reservation. Campo's is a dinner and dancing club, and the one thing I love to do is dance. Not just Latin dances either; maybe I should consider auditioning for Dancing with the Stars?.

We are promptly shown to our seats and we take time to peruse the menu. Now that we've arrived, Granny Mazur is intent on examining the dance floor. It's full of couples of all ages tonight. She turns to me, a big grin on her face.

"Can you dance?"

I smile back. "Would not have brought you here if I couldn't."

"Are we gonna get on the dance floor?"

"As soon as we order."

She immediately begins looking around for the waiter. I'm amused. Edna is truly _Angelita_ without the restraints, which is saying something. Finally our waiter appears.

"Welcome to Campo, ma'am." It's John, a long standing server. I spoke to him earlier today to ask for his help and I can see that, although he's confused, he'll continue with the plan. "Is this your first time here?"

"Yes," Edna says, smiling.

"Wonderful! It's always a beautiful thing to see a man take his grandmother out on the town for an evening of dinner and dancing. Would you like some recommendations on the menu?"

Perfect delivery. I pretend annoyance while Edna's eyes get big. She looks at me, amused, waiting to see my response. I have none. That was intended to put Edna on notice that it's assumed that we're related, just in case she got any wild ideas about trying to feel me up on the dance floor. Looks really odd to grope your grandchild in public.

"He's not my grandson," Edna says. "Are you trying to say that I can't date a handsome man like Hector? That I can't be a tiger?" She turns to me. "It is tiger, right?"

I'm laughing in my head. "Cougar."

"Right," Edna says to John. "Are you saying that Hector wouldn't be interested in a cougar like me? I still got it." She wiggles a little in the seat.

I'm mentally rolling on the ground in laughter. John pretends embarrassment while hiding his amusement. I'll have to tip him extra for this. "Oh no, my apologies, ma'am. I've known Hector for years, and I've never known him to bring anyone here except family."

Edna looks at me and gives me a sly smile. "Oh really?" She grins. "Hector, are you planning to add me to the family?"

I give her a small smile. "You are Stephanie's grandmother. You are family." Edna attempts to raise an eyebrow again (that's just hilarious) and smiles back. I love this. She has no responses for my comments.

John walks Edna through the menu and Edna orders a full meal, plus dessert. Definitely her granddaughter's grandmother. A foxtrot starts up and I stand and extend my hand to Edna, who grins big.

"Madame, would you care to dance?"

* * *

Edna is no slouch on the dance floor. We foxtrot and jitterbug before the appetizers arrive and waltz and tango before the entrees. Edna has a decent command of almost every dance and she's attracting attention. Older gentlemen approach the table twice during dinner to ask her to dance and she immediately hops out there with them. I'm enjoying watching her have fun. Some of the men are slipping phone numbers to Edna, and she's flirting with every man she sees.

This plan will work to perfection on _Angelita_.

Tonight, I need to accomplish two things: One, I need Edna to stop scaring the Trenton RangeMen. They are _Angelita_'s first line of defense, and it's untenable that my brothers are hesitant to follow _Angelita_ places because they are frustrated by Edna's bony fingers. Fear of Edna is dangerous for _Angelita,_ and I'm sure she's never thought of it that way. I intend to ensure that she does understand it before this evening ends.

Two: I need to ensure _Angelita_ has familial support. Mr. Plum is not my preference. Nice that he's finally deciding to jump in, but he has a long way to go with me. Mrs. Plum is definitely on probation. Until I see more support from her, I will not encourage _Angelita_ to spend more time with her. I'll accompany _Angelita_ to more dinners and see if Pod Mom has it together. One dinner (delicious though it was) has not changed my mind.

Edna finally returns to the table, flushed and happy. "Hot damn! I never knew about this place. How long have you been coming here?"

"Years."

"Why?"

"I love to dance. I want to bring Stephanie here. I think she will enjoy it."

Edna fans herself while looking at me. Finally, she sobers up. "OK, you've been holding out on me. You said you wanted to talk business. What do you want?"

I sit back and smile. Dessert is arriving, just in time, and while Edna savors her cheesecake, I consider how to approach this. We'll start with Issue Two.

"You are aware that I am Stephanie's partner, yes?"

Edna nods, having finished the cheesecake.

"It is my duty to protect her and guard her from all threats, but she must do her part by learning to protect me, watch my back. Part of my job relies on ensuring that she has adequate support and encouragement around her. The men of RangeMan are working with her daily to bring her up to our standards. That includes physical fitness, weapons training, and defense training. We are also teaching her the skills she will need to know to work in the security industry, just in case she decides to leave RangeMan when Ranger comes back."

"Why would she leave? She's moved into your building. She's running his company. She loves him. Doesn't he love her?" Edna looks confused and unhappy.

I shrug. Ranger's feelings are not mine to discuss, but it's good to know that _Angelita_ does love Ranger. Now that I think of it, I don't think I've had any definitive confirmation that she did until now. "I think he has feelings for her, but you have to understand his position. Stephanie cares very little for her own life. For men who work in security, Stephanie's nonchalant attitude toward her life is disturbing and discouraging. We love her more than she loves herself."

Edna sits up, offended. "That's **not** true! Stephie does love her life. She doesn't like to be told what to do and you men are good at that! Always telling her what to do, where to go, how she should behave—"

"Is that us? Or The Cop? Or your daughter?" I ask, then consider another alternative. "Or your late husband?"

The air and the fight leave Edna. She's quiet now, sitting back in her chair.

"You see, that's the difference between support and being smothered. We at RangeMan support Stephanie. We're not The Cop or your daughter. We're not telling her to quit and stay home and have babies. We're not telling her to give up, apply at the button factory and be like every other girl. We admire her grit and determination to do this job. But if she's going to do it, we want her to do it in a way that shows that she cares about living."

I sit back and sip my coffee. Edna looks deep in thought.

"Stephanie is very good at finding people, but she keeps getting hurt. Back on Haywood, there are 40 men who have small heart attacks every time something happens to her. We don't mind partnering her in order to ensure someone has her back, but we can't be the only ones who care about her life. She needs someone else to point out to her that she can't keep running in halfcocked."

I lean forward and take both of Edna's hands into mine. " Do you want to bury your granddaughter?"

Edna's face goes completely white. I get the feeling that no one has ever put it that bluntly to her before. Tears start rolling down her cheeks and I pass her my handkerchief. I give her a few moments to pull herself back together.

"I don't want her to die," she whispers. "I've never been as frightened as I was when we found out that Con Stiva had locked her in a coffin. I almost wished I could blow up the funeral home all over again." She smiles, but it's shaky. "I'd do it, but then I wouldn't have anything to do on Thursday nights."

I smile. OK, that's amusing. Selfish but amusing. I'd blow the funeral home up time and time again.

"Exactly. You understand where I'm coming from, right?" Edna nods quietly. "I don't want to attend her funeral, and I've already told her this. I think she's pushing herself to meet standards at the moment because she knows that I won't accept anything less, but I can't be the only person helping her. She needs to know her family supports her too."

"We do support her. You should see Frank and Helen," Edna says, perking up. "My daughter has finally put a leash on her mouth about finding Stephie a man to marry. Every time she looks like she wants to go down that road, she takes a deep breath and gets quiet. I couldn't understand it. I thought an alien had taken over my daughter."

Hmm. Now, that is interesting intel.

Edna looks at me and smiles. "They really do want to support her, you know. I think actually seeing her with her leg broken made it real how easily she could be hurt. I know it did for me. We don't do emotions in the Plum-Mazur family, Hector. Helen's nagging and Frank's pats, that's how her parents show they love her."

I snort and Edna grins. "Yeah, my husband wasn't big on showing emotions and neither is Frank. And neither is Ranger, for that matter, so the cycle continues."

Now that makes me stop and think. She may have a point. No wonder _Angelita_ doesn't see anything wrong with Ranger's lack of verbal support or open affection, aside from a "Proud of you, Babe". It runs in the family. She's accustomed to it. It also explains why Ranger's four-word sentence means more than anything The Cop can do for her. It's a pat and a slice of cake all in one.

I need to think on this later, and I'll need to tell Ella what I've learned. We'll need to modify our plans to adjust for this.

I've been quiet too long, so I look at Edna. She, too, is lost in thought. I motion for more wine and smile at her. We nod at each other. I have a new ally.

"You are the person she considers her biggest ally in your family," I tell her. "She wants to be just like you, strong, fun-loving, undeterred by age or circumstance." I smile at her. Edna is grinning again. "I often hear her mutter that she wants to be just like you when she reaches your age."

Edna laughs. "Well, I can either have fun with what I've got or moan about the fact that my husband gambled away all our money, leaving me with nothing. I don't have much of a choice. I have to go with what I've got."

I smile. "Exactly. You and she have the same attitude toward life: 'I'll work with what I have', which is very healthy." I lean forward and take her hands. "Edna, what I need is someone in her family who is willing to remind her to keep living. To do her best and not settle. I need someone willing to encourage her to succeed."

Edna sits back and takes a sip of her wine. Eventually, she smiles. "Hector, you don't fool me one bit. What you really want is someone to tell my granddaughter to grow up."

I blink, contemplate a lie, then smile. "Yes. That's exactly what I want."

Edna laughs, a big hearty laugh that draws attention. "You know, that's what I like about you. Aside from the fact that you fear nothing and you've got big balls, you say exactly what you mean. You aren't much of a liar, are you?"

"Not where my life or Stephanie's life is concerned," I reply. I sip my water and smile. Edna finishes her wine while I pay the check. I leave John a $50 tip. I assist Edna out to the car and consider how to broach Issue One, my brothers-in-arms.

"I do have a second topic to discuss with you." Edna looks over at me. "The men of RangeMan Trenton."

"Oh? What about them?"

"I know you love patting their bottoms, but I really need you to quit that," I say baldly. Edna blinks in the evening light.

"Why? Hector, that would take away my fun," she pouts.

"True, but it puts your granddaughter in danger," I reply.

"How?" she asks, surprised.

"The men consider you a menace to their backsides. Aside from the fact that you pinch hard enough to bruise, it's very . . ." I grope for the right word, "weird to be felt up by a woman old enough to be your grandma. It feels odd and scary. They don't have a response for it. They won't do anything against you because you are Stephanie's grandmother, but at the same time they've learned to ask if you're going to be around if they have to guard Stephanie. That's a problem, a big one. The last thing I want and need is for the men of RangeMan Trenton to go on strike. If they refuse to guard Stephanie because you keep pinching their bottoms, then that leaves Stephanie without adequate protection."

The men would never go on strike, but I want her to stop. Now.

"Yeah, but they would never do that. They love Stephanie and besides, Ranger orders you to guard her."

"No, actually he doesn't. Maybe he did when we first met her a few years ago, but at this point, it's entirely voluntary. The men guard her because they love her, but they trade off shifts when you're involved. They keep a running list of who's been pinched last."

I look over at Edna and find that she's sobered up again. Good. Now to bring this point home.

"Would it be appropriate for a man your age to feel up Stephanie? To pinch her bottom, maybe attempt to grab her breasts, simply because she was with you? Would you be OK with that?"

"No! It . . ." Edna exhales and looks out the window.

Bingo. The point has been made.

"You're killing all my fun," she pouts quietly. "I have to admit, I find it funny to watch your RangeMen jump every time they see me, but you're right. If some old fart tried to grab Stephie's breasts, I'd shoot him until the gun emptied."

I grin. Good. "Feel free to continue pinching The Cop though. My request doesn't cover him."

Edna laughs. "Looking out for RangeMen only, huh?"

"RangeMan Trenton only, yes. They are your granddaughter's first line of defense against enemies. They can't hesitate for any reason."

The ride back to New Jersey is quiet. Just as we cross the Delaware River, Edna speaks.

"Frank and I are throwing our lot in with you boys."

I look over at her and wait for her to continue.

"I don't think Morelli will ever come up to scratch, and I think Helen is beginning to lose hope as well."

Interesting. All our intel said that it was _Angelita_ who was holding out. I wonder why her family thinks it's The Cop.

"Ranger has been there for her since the beginning, and I think that Helen is finally willing to give him a chance. Something happened between her and Joseph that she won't speak about, but I do know this: the attitude that you've seen when the RangeMen come to dinner is real." Edna looks over at me. It's clear she's serious. "She finally recognizes that you boys will give your lives to protect Stephie, and now that Stephie is your boss, she's willing to treat all of you with respect. I think she finally accepted that all of you love Stephie and if Ranger felt comfortable leaving her in charge of a lot of strong men, then she must be accepted at RangeMan."

Edna grins. "Plus, Frank's actually started speaking at the dinner table. Can't remember the last time that happened, but he's so thrilled to have men at the table he'll do anything to encourage all of you to come back more often. I think he sees the RangeMen as surrogate sons and wants to encourage you to come more often, in his own way. You can consider his conversation as a pat on the shoulder."

I can't help it. I laugh. The visual is hilarious to me for some reason.

The rest of the ride is silent and, as we pull into the parking lot, Edna turns to me with a question I had not anticipated.

"Is that the reason Ranger hasn't made a move on Stephie? Because he thinks she's suicidal or doesn't care about her life?"

Tricky. I need to answer this in a way that doesn't answer it. Finally, I have a response.

"You remember when his daughter was taken?"

Edna nods.

"Ranger had done everything to ensure that his enemies could not get to those he loved and she was still abducted. She is a child, without resources, without defenses. There was no helping that situation." I look Edna in the eyes and I see that she's listening to every word I say. "Stephanie is not the same. She has resources. She could have defenses. The opportunity is there. Stephanie needs to decide if she's going to take it."

Hmm . . . appropriately vague. Not bad. I can see Edna understands the context and I relax. I accomplished the goal. I park and open Edna's car door.

She gropes me.

_Sigh_. Instead of the outright victory, I'm forced to accept a casualty during the enemies' retreat. I'll allow it. I won the war.

I look at Edna, who is grinning at me. "Last time I'll be able to do it. From now on, I'll leave the RangeMen alone. Besides, you've got the biggest balls of them all. Hard to resist a target like that."

I smile and shake my head.

She is her granddaughter's grandmother. Strong. Stubborn. Undeterred.

I escort Edna to the door and do the intruder check. The apartment is quiet and Edna sets her purse and keys down. She reviews her answering machine and sighs. Mrs. Plum wondering where her mother is. Five messages along those lines in one night. Jesus. No wonder _Angelita_ is so happy we screen her calls. She looks at me and rolls her eyes.

"Hector, thank you for the flowers and the good time." She grins mischievously. "I can't wait to tell the girls at the Clip and Curl I had a hot date with a Hispanic bad boy my granddaughter's age tonight. I'll be the talk of Trenton."

And somehow Edna has just snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. I'm amazed. _Angelita_ in 50 years. I accomplished my goals but I'm accepting a draw with my target.

The irony forces me to laugh until I cry. I notice that Edna is laughing with me and finally I straighten up.

"Truce?" I offer, extending my hand.

"Truce," she replies.

"Don't ruin my rep," I ask, amused.

"Are you kidding? Who would believe me?" Edna replies saucily.

I kiss her hand and watch as she blushes. "Call some of those numbers. See if you can get another hot date. Let Stephanie know and we'll double with you."

Edna grins. "Done."

"For the sake of the public, the war continues."

"Thank god!" Edna does a little jig. "Trying to find ways to get back at you has been the most fun I've had in months."

I chuckle and shrug mentally. The ongoing war will give us a pretext to be seen together, besides _Angelita's_ company. Plus, I am having fun with this. It's a way to test my theories before application.

With that, I leave. I accomplished tonight's objectives. I have a new partner in my quest to get _Angelita_ to demand more from my brother, and the target supplied interesting intel I need to consider. My new partner will also know how to encourage _Angelita_ to value her life in ways that I cannot push.

Edna is a crafty old woman. _Angelita_ in 50 years.

* * *

**A/N: For those of you who read the bonus chapter, you may be wondering if Edna broke her word. Answer: No. Reread the last paragraph of the bonus chapter very carefully and consider who her victims were. Hector worded his agreement very slyly. For those of you who haven't read the bonus chapter, it will be released after chapter 44, but you have until that time to submit a guess.**


	6. The Housekeepers' War, Part I

**Chapter 39.5: The Housekeepers' War—Trenton, Part I**

* * *

**Ella's POV**

Luis declared that there was **absolutely no way** I would take on the Miami men on my own. My husband is my partner in everything, and I didn't blame him. Every time I've come back from Miami I've been tempted to throw things. So I informed Hal that Luis and I were headed to Miami and he agreed.

Hector picked us up from the airport on Monday morning.

"Stephanie is offline," he said with a significant look. I frowned. Where could she be, especially without Hector at her back and . . . oh! I beam at Hector. Nothing more need be said. Wonderful! He's surprised her with a romantic getaway, just the two of them. That's more like it.

We piled into the SUV and Hector turned to us. "You bring the bug detector?" We nodded. "Good. They aren't ready for her review. I've been scaring them, popping up at random. Also, I enjoyed the _papas rellenas_ left in the break room yesterday. Delicious."

Really?! Is she still serving meals outside requirements? I shake my head. Maria has to learn that you can get the RangeMen to love you without bribing them. She's made her own situation much harder. I know now what I need to do.

* * *

None of the RangeMen are on hand to greet us when we arrive except Armando. He's smiling and friendly, but Hector said to watch out for him too. He can be a snake in the grass when you least expect it. I know; I've dealt with him before. Luis and I head to the kitchen and pantry to inspect my new domain.

Maria does an excellent job keeping this place up to standards, but I can see why her food budget is outsized. Meat, potatoes, lard (that's gone immediately), and pounds of butter. The woman's pantry is a place where Helen Plum would feel right at home. I hear shuffling and I turn around to find five RangeMen in the prep area, smiling. Luis is still in the walk-ins.

"Hello! I'm Antonio and welcome to RangeMan Miami."

"Hello. I'm Ella Guzman."

Each man grins. "Well, we've heard so much about you, Ella. We're thrilled to have you here in house at RangeMan Miami for . . . how long are you here?"

I didn't invite you to address me informally, young man, but I'll wait on that. "I'm here for a month."

"Great! We can't wait to see what culinary delights you have in store for us. Now, in the meantime, I'm sure you are settling in, inspecting your new domain, but I—we—thought we'd give you a list of our dietary requirements and the standard meal plans here. Also, we have lists of our favorite meals and snacks and what we require of Maria."

I'm shocked by his audacity. I'm the head housekeeper for RangeMan. Does he not think I'd come armed with those things? I look at him coldly. "Did you really think I would show up here without consulting Maria? Without ensuring that I was prepared to take on her duties for a month? Do you men really think I'm so feeble and absentminded? Or do you assume Maria is too scatterbrained to give me the correct information?"

They're shuffling now and looking at their feet. Antonio stares straight at me. "No, Ella—"

"Mrs. Guzman."

He blinks.

"We have not known each other long enough for you to be so familiar with me, nor have I given you permission to call me by my Christian name. I am Mrs. Guzman. Now, you were saying?"

I can tell he's embarrassed and pissed that he's embarrassed, but that's basic manners and he should know better. "Well, **Mrs. Guzman**, we weren't insinuating that you are feeble or absent-minded. We simply thought we might help **you** out by informing you of the Miami practices. If you are not in need of our assistance, we apologize." He motions to the other men and they all walk out of the kitchen.

I'm not ignorant of his plan. Now I'm supposed to be so overcome with remorse that I should run after them, apologize, and beg for his assistance. Sorry, gentlemen. No apologies here. You were being rude and condescending and I'll not bow to that behavior.

Luis sticks his head in the kitchen. My husband is furious, but he's doing a good job of holding it in. "Get them straight soon or I'll shoot them all."

I smile. "Feel free to inform them that there's a standard of behavior for your wife. I'll not consider that interference."

Luis grins and I can tell that the staff meeting here will be uncomfortable for the Miami men.

* * *

Each RangeMan housekeeper is required to keep multiple binders detailing their routines, professional contacts (for supplies, cleaning services, etc), meal plans, notes, etc. I'm not a stickler for overseeing the housekeepers, as long as there are no major complaints about their service or standards. These women are professionals with years of experience. I rarely find problems. Each RangeMan is given a survey to fill out four times a year to assess the housekeeper's service, and it's the method I base any bonus on. I'm sure each housekeeper thinks her salary and bonus is determined by the XO at the branch, but they're wrong; I'm the head housekeeper. That's my role in order to avoid a conflict of interest between the housekeepers and the XOs. My salary and bonus are determined by Tank and Bobby, since I'm related to Carlito and Lester. I make a surprise inspection of each RangeMan location once a year to ensure standards are kept.

Maria's files are immaculate and detail every single thing she does here. I review her meal plans, the one area where she consistently fails my inspections, and shake my head. I see what has happened here. The Miami men have 'gifted' her with recipes and family favorites that they would like her to serve and, eager to please, she has drifted away from the standard RangeMan fare to these items. Since Maria is a widow who loves to cook, it was a simple thing to manipulate her into doing what they pleased. It's what they just tried to do to me. I call Jackson, the medic here, and ask for the results of the last four physicals for each man.

"Ma'am, I'm not sure I'm allowed to release that to you. HIPAA, after all."

"I believe that the 'housekeeper in residence' is listed as an exception on the RangeMan release form, isn't that correct?"

"Yes ma'am, but that would be Maria." I wait a moment and allow him to think about that. "Right. I see your point. I'll bring the files up ASAP."

"Thank you, Jackson."

In the meantime I review Maria's 'meals'. _Papas rellenas, empanadas, yucca chips, fried plantains, tamales_ (tamales! Those take forever to make!), _albondigas,_ _arepas_, the list is endless and all of it is absolutely unacceptable. I keep digging and find a "Ranger" menu. This is more acceptable. Toasted nuts, granola, yogurt, and fresh fruit. I see. So when Carlito is in house she serves the correct meals but otherwise she's cooking ridiculously for these men.

I find Luis helping Jackson haul the medical records in. I stand, smiling, until all the records are in. Jackson nods at me and turns to leave.

"Jackson?"

He turns. "Yes, Mrs. Guzman?"

"Where's the receipt for me to sign?"

He blinks. Oh please don't tell me you're just handing me these files without making me sign for them, especially after making a big deal about HIPAA. The look on his face suggests that's exactly what's happening. I'm stunned.

Stephanie is going to tear this place apart. I make a mental note to make sure Hector drills her on the SOPs.

I turn, pull a piece a paper, and sign a quick receipt of the files. I hand it to Jackson, who is blushing, embarrassed. "Young man, you are in charge of medical files here. Bobby would never hand me a file without making me sign my life away and Zero is just as bad." Jackson nods, ashamed, and leaves.

I turn to Luis, who grins and shakes his head. "_Dulce_, they won't know what hit them when Stephanie arrives."

"I knew Miami was lax, but this is unacceptable. Does Armando just expect Ranger's presence to resolve all problems?"

"Ella, I get the feeling that that is exactly what happens. When Ranger is here, they all straighten up. Otherwise . . . " Luis shrugs. "I'm not looking forward to doing an inspection of Rafe's work here."

"Luis, you should see her meals! Ranger would kill me, literally kill me, if I set out _tamales_ and _albondigas_ in Trenton!"

"_Albondigas_?" Luis is intrigued. My husband loves those little meatballs. I hand him a meal plan and shopping list and watch his eyebrows reach his hairline. He lowers his paper and looks at me, grim. "_Dulce_, you have your work cut out for you. Which reminds me." Luis disappears into our bedroom and reappears with the bug detector Hector gifted him. He does a quick sweep of the apartment and returns with six devices. He grins mischievously.

"Now, what do you think I should tell Hector, hmm? Should I tell him that I found six bugs in our apartment? They have to be for us, to spy on us. What other reason could there be? Or should I tell Hal? He doesn't like anyone messing with you either. Do you think they're trying to learn more about Stephanie through us?" Luis is holding back laughter.

I pick up the commentary. "I wonder if they realize that we aren't feeble. We raised five children. We're ready for any trick in the book. We **came** with a bug detector!"

I can't wait to see what the response to this will be.

* * *

I call ahead to Armando and let him know that I'll be ten minutes late to the staff meeting and I would appreciate it if he allowed Luis a moment or two to address the care and standards toward his wife. Armando eagerly agreed.

I arrive exactly ten minutes late and sit next to Luis. Every man in the room is silent and most refuse to look at me.

Armando smiles. "Mrs. Guzman, we're just at your part in the report."

"Thank you, Armando," I reply. I turn to the men. "I'm still doing an assessment of the standards of this location, but the one thing I can announce is that, starting tomorrow, the diet at this location will be entirely different. I've seen Maria's standard diet and it's completely unacceptable. I will set a new standard, which I will require Maria to follow. Jackson?" I turn to Jackson, who nods at me. "I'm still reviewing files, but I would appreciate some of your time tomorrow or Wednesday in order get a full understanding of the health and dietary requirements of this branch."

"We'll do everything necessary to make Jackson available to you, Mrs. Guzman," Armando replies, turning a hard look to Jackson. "Anything else?"

"Not so far. Thank you."

The meeting is dismissed on time, and Armando catches me and Luis on the way out the door.

"Mr. and Mrs. Guzman?" We smile. Armando is sketchy, but polite. We look at each other and nod.

"Ella and Luis, please, Armando. How can we help?" Luis replies.

Armando smiles. "No help needed. I know this is your first night here and I was going to invite you to dinner at my home tonight. My mother and grandmother are cooking and you're more than welcome."

I see Luis look at me. He's game and I'll appreciate not cooking. I nod. "We'd be delighted."

* * *

Dinner at Armando's is pleasant. It's clear that the man is a bit sexist, but he's also henpecked. He lives with his mother, his still-single sister, his wife, and two daughters. He's surrounded by women, which is why his response to me is entirely different from the rest of his office.

After dinner, we meet with him in his home office, and I'm surprised by the information he gives me.

"I heard you found the bugs," he says, smiling. Luis and I are stunned. "Oh, I'm not supposed to know they bugged you either, but I happened to be eavesdropping in the right place at the right time. They're terrified right now because if you hand those bugs back to Hector, they know they're dead. Hector constantly popping up right now is scaring them shitless."

Luis and I look at each other and laugh.

"Look, I'll tell you what I know. I know this: I've tried to run an attitude adjustment on that office and it failed. I know that Maria's diet is completely unacceptable, and I tried to stop that. I suspect that she simply started slipping them treats under the table and, instead of having everyone treat me as if I'm an idiot, I just let her do it above board where you can catch her on the annual review. I know that I haven't told anyone in the office that Hector is Stephanie's partner because the threat is too good. If they knew he was her partner, they wouldn't say more than 'Yes, CO' to her for fear of Hector's punishment. What I need to know is what you need to be successful."

Luis and I raise our eyebrows at Armando, who smiles.

"Again, not stupid. You didn't just decide to switch with Maria for a month on a whim. I smell Ranger's or Lester's involvement in this. I don't care as long as you're successful in whatever you're trying to do."

Luis pipes up before I can say anything. "We need a car, something small, to get around." He looks at me and I nod. That's all I need right now.

"Great. I'll get you access to one of the Camrys. Is that OK?" We nod. "OK. The other thing is that I don't think you'll find too many problems with Rafe's work. Since he has standard maintenance, I usually don't see any problems there, but if you find some, please let me know." He looks at his fingers. "I'll tell you what I haven't said to anyone. I expect Miami won't pass this management review."

"Why?" I ask, astonished. That's the first time I've heard any XO say it aloud.

"Because my men will torpedo it. They're a bunch of sexist pigs who will assume that anything the CO dings them on is because she personally doesn't like them. They won't consider the alternative: that they might have earned it. I'm not looking forward to it."

I look at Armando coldly. He's just as manipulative as the rest. "Armando, telling us won't help your case. If you fail management review, it will be because **management** has allowed this problem to fester. If you know your men are sexist, do something about it. You know your men bugged us, but you didn't address it. You like to sit back and allow someone to solve the problem so you aren't the bad guy. Well, I'm sorry but you're in management. You can't always be the buddy." I stand and so does Luis. "Sometimes, my dear, you have to be the hard ass."

* * *

On the way back to RangeMan, I ask Armando to swing by the local Whole Foods. I'll find other sources later but right now, I need a quick one-stop shop.

I grab the makings of three kinds of granola and kale chips. I also grab a couple of jicama. Spent entirely too much, but this is good for tomorrow. The next morning, the RangeMen find crocks of steel-cut oatmeal, dried fruit, granola, and yogurt for breakfast. No orange juice. No _huevos rancheros_. Nothing fried. Just a nice solid healthy breakfast.

This is one of the standard breakfasts at every other RangeMan location.

Mid-morning, I set out the kale and jicama chips. The oatmeal was half eaten.

"Mrs. Guzman?"

I turn around. Don't know this one yet. "Yes?"

"I'm Pedro. Nice to meet you." I shake his hand, smiling. "Any chance of seeing some _albondigas_ today? I missed out yesterday."

I notice shadows outside the door and the room is suspiciously empty. _Sigh_. The Trenton RangeMen are much better at espionage. They would have bugged the room and turned the cameras in this direction before sending someone in.

"Pedro?" He nods. "You've been set up, young man. I informed everyone at yesterday's staff meeting that the diet was going to be completely different. No _albondigas_ on the menu from now on."

His smile drops. "Then you're going to have a problem with this office."

I smile. "I doubt it. After all, I'm the head housekeeper. Your next stop above me is the CO. Feel free to complain to her."

He stares at me for a long moment then walks out. I finish setting up the snacks.

This is going to be one long, interesting month.

* * *

**Maria's POV**

I'm met at the airport by two men, who approach me silently and cautiously. I'm actually more afraid of them than I am comforted and I realize that they must be RangeMen.

"Mrs. Saldana?"

I nod, tears in my eyes. It's been a while since anyone called me by my married name. I miss Armand so much at times like this. The RangeMan grimaces slightly and hands me a handkerchief. I inspect it quickly and silently. It's spotless. I wipe my eyes.

"I'm Henry, called Hal," he says, "and this is Ramsay, called Ram. We're the XO and Liaison for RangeMan Trenton, and we're here to welcome you to New Jersey."

I nod and smile. "Sorry. Been a while since anyone called me by my married name. You can call me Maria."

Ram smiles. "Wonderful to meet you, Maria. If you'll tell me how many bags you have, I'll grab them. We have the items you had shipped up and they're already waiting for you in your apartment at RangeMan."

I point out my bags and the men grab them and escort me to a waiting SUV. We pile in and they inform me that it's about an hour back to Trenton, depending on the traffic.

"We wanted to give you a few minutes to relax after the plane ride, and if you have any questions that we can answer before you hit the building, we're more than happy to do so."

I miss my Miami men. These boys are polite, but I don't know them yet.

"Well, tell me a little about the office."

They fill me in on the size and the general area. I ask about local grocery stores and they tell me what's close by and what's preferred. Then they tell me the grocery procedures. I'm stunned.

"So, let me make sure I understand this. I simply need to inform you, Hal, when I'm making a grocery run and I'll have an escort?" Hal nods. "Each time?" Another nod. "Why?"

Ram looks back at me in confusion. "Well, each time Ella does a grocery run, we go with her. I mean, we don't expect her to haul all that stuff into the SUV or the building on her own. Nor do we expect her to push those heavy baskets around the warehouse stores. Plus, she says that you have an hour to get refrigerated stuff back into a refrigerator, so while she does the shopping, we run it back to the building to ensure maximum freshness. I mean, that's standard procedure."

Not in Miami it's not. I've had to run back and forth from the stores to the building in summer for fear that things might go bad in my car.

Ram continues. "That's actually standard procedure whenever you go shopping, but definitely grocery shopping. We don't expect you to push heavy baskets around." He grins. "I think Ella thought we were calling her feeble at first, but she's grown to love it. Besides, we like to treat the woman feeding us well, so you simply need to tell us what you need and we'll try our best to get it for you."

I'm stunned by this attitude. The Miami men treat me well, but they equate pushing a basket for any reason as shopping and they won't do it. I don't mind. I enjoy walking around the supermarkets, squeezing the fruit and shopping for the finest meats. It will feel awkward having an escort while doing that and I tell Ram that. He nods.

"We're used to it. I think Ella squeezes everything. Why don't you give having the assistance a try once? If you don't care for it, you don't have to have it."

I agree. This should be interesting.

* * *

At first, my meals did not go over well. I cooked my standard Miami fare, including all the little treats, and was surprised to see that very little of it was eaten. These were big strong boys! I expected those platters to be cleaned.

After the fourth day, Ram called me into his office.

"Maria, please take a seat." He waited until I was seated to sit. I love their manners. "Maria, I'm not sure how to address this properly, but I'm going to try. We adore your meals, but they're a bit much for us. A bit too heavy." Ram smiled sadly. "I'm asking you to dial back on the fried foods and meat. We love it but we really can't handle it."

I blinked and sat back. "Well, that's the standard fare in Miami. I'm sorry. I . . . I'm not sure what to say. They love my food."

Ram nodded. "I'm sure that's true, but here in Trenton, all your meals are too heavy." He looked down and I could see he had some notes. "I guess the biggest thing I should say is that there are more military men at this location than any other and a lot of us are ex-Special Forces, myself included. I see meat as a complement to a meal, not the starring item, and a fried item around here is considered a special occasion treat. The meaty fried things you've been serving have been a bit much." He smiled. "Don't get me wrong, I could eat my weight in those meatballs you served yesterday, but I also had to do two hours on the treadmill to work it off. Judging from the activity in the gym this morning, I wasn't the only one."

I nodded. Ella is always dinging me in her inspections for my food but they love that food in Miami. I don't see my Miami men killing themselves to work it off. They simply do it.

"OK, what do you suggest?"

He passed the sheet of paper. I could see a menu. "I wrote down what I remember Ella serving here last week. That's more in line with what we're used to." He stood and shut his office door. "I am taking you into my confidence now, Maria. Please don't tell anyone what I reveal to you, especially Miami."

I nodded.

"The CO is working to meet RangeMan standards here at Trenton. The diet is the biggest stumbling block for her, and we've made it easy by having Ella make all her meals. She loves doughnuts, pizza, meatball subs, fried chicken, ice cream, all that stuff. I'm sure Ella talked to you about it."

She did, and I was thrilled to know that I might have the chance to introduce the girl to Cuban food when she visited Miami. Now I'll get to do it here!

"The fact is, until she meets standards, she can't have any of that stuff, and what you've served so far is the kind of stuff she'll want and can't have. It serves as a bad example to the men to have the CO eating outside the standards. So, I'm asking you to serve her and us the standard RangeMan diet until she passes standards."

I looked at the menu. It's the sort of stuff I hate to cook. Healthy but boring. "I can do this, but what about snacks and treats?"

"Snacks here are granola, fruit, yogurt, anything high fiber, low fat and calories. Carrot sticks, slices of cucumber, plain and butter-free popcorn." He grins. "We love dessert but it's on the banned list. The CO's food pyramid is completely dessert based at the bottom, and if she smells cake or cookies on premises, there's no place we could hide it that she wouldn't find it. If you can make cake healthy, it's cleared."

I laughed. My kinda woman. I suppose I'll have to cook Ella's boring meals. I nodded at Ram and headed back upstairs to determine how to manage this. I had until tomorrow, when the CO would return home.

* * *

A week later I'm really missing my Miami boys. I call Pedro, who tells me that Ella has gone over like a combless chicken in Miami.

"Maria, we miss you so much! Please come home!" He moans.

I laugh. "I'll be home soon enough. You'll survive."

Apparently Ella is feeding them the vegetarian/vegan RangeMan diet. I told her all that healthy stuff wouldn't go over there. Those are men. Manly men. They want and **need** meat, protein, eggs. She's feeding them an almost vegan diet. Vegetable chips, fresh fruit, chickpea stews, and tofu. They're now grateful to see yogurt and cheese. They've never been so regular, Pedro tells me.

I laugh my butt off when we hang up.

I head downstairs to the 5th floor and find Hal. He waves me into his office and stands as I enter. How nice. I must say, the Trenton men do a much better job of treating me like a lady.

"Hal, I'm headed on a grocery store run. I think I'll try this escort thing and see how it works."

Hal nods and picks up the phone. "Junior?" He waits. "Junior, Hal. Maria's doing a grocery run. Volunteers to my office."

He motions for me to take a seat. "When the men arrive, you simply need to tell them how many stores and what you expect to pick up so they can organize."

I'm not sure what to say. I thought this was an assigned duty, so I'm waiting to see how many men volunteer. And I'm not sure what he means about them needing to organize.

Five minutes later, I'm looking at eight men. I'm stunned. "Umm …I don't know what to tell you guys."

Vince smiles. I love his smile. "Well, what do you tell the Miami men?"

"They don't do this."

His smile drops. "You mean . . . I'm not sure I follow."

I give a small smile. "They don't escort me. Never offered to. I'm not sure what the procedure is here."

The Trenton men look at each other in surprise. Vince takes the seat next to me. "OK, how many stores are we hitting?"

"Three. Sam's, Whole Foods, and Trader Joe's." I see grins at the mention of Trader Joe's. Ella told me it was a favorite.

"Are you picking up refrigerated items at each store?" I nod and I see two RangeMen, Binkie and Eddie, leave the room. I'm slowly learning names.

"Which store do you plan to have the biggest haul at?"

"Sam's."

"OK, so here's what I suggest. Whole Foods and Trader Joe's are the farthest away, but they're right across the street from each other. We'll put coolers in the back of an SUV and let's go there first. The guys will bring your purchases back here and stash them while we hit Sam's in the van. Sound good?"

I don't know what to say. I smile at Vince and he passes a hankie. We head to the garage and six RangeMen pile into the van while Binkie and Vince pile into the SUV with me. Binkie heads to the Trader Joe's while Vince turns to look at me.

"I didn't want to make a big deal of it back there, but are you telling me that when you do grocery runs, no one helps you?"

I nod. "No. I was surprised when Hal and Ram told me that was standard procedure here. I don't know what to say, except that I'm surprised and grateful."

Binkie and Vince look at each other. "Well, Maria, SOPs in Trenton are that Ella is a gem not to be misused or taken for granted. If you need help with anything, and I do mean **anything**, here in Trenton, you need only ask **any** RangeMan. You don't have to route requests through Hal. We're happy to help."

Binkie looks at me through the rearview and smiles. "We mean that. We look out for the lady who feeds us and orders our clothes and supplies."

Shopping day with the Trenton men was a revelation. We arrived at each store and I was allowed to hold my purse. That was it. They pushed the baskets, they packed the SUV and the van, and they stood quietly and patiently as I checked my shopping lists and looked at labels. No one got annoyed as I searched for the finest meats and veggies, and they made sure items were correctly weighed and marked. Best of all, after watching me place 10 cans of tomatoes into the basket, they informed me that I need only point to an item and tell them how many I needed and they would do the stacking. We got down three rows much faster because they worked in groups of two to stack those baskets with my choices.

What would have taken me nearly all day in Miami took three hours in Trenton, and that's only because we stopped for a light snack.

I was surprised by what I saw when I got back to Trenton. The men had placed the items from the first two stores in the refrigerator. All volunteers went back downstairs to help the rest of the brigade. I didn't need to give any orders. All pantry items went directly into the pantry, with the oldest items being pushed forward to make sure they were used first. The other men pulled out chef's knives and sankotu blades and awaited orders.

I was standing in the middle of the room in shock when Eddie smiled.

"Maria? Your orders, ma'am? Do you need help chopping, dicing, slicing, or breaking down any roasts or chickens?" I blinked and he grinned. "This is one of the few ways we get to use our knife skills on a regular basis."

The tears began to run down my cheeks. No wonder every other housekeeper praised her men so much. If they all did this, then I was clearly not being treated right in Miami.

Vince stepped forward and hugged me. "Just so you know, we suck at comfort, but the CO has taught us to be good with hugs. If you need more than a hug and a hankie, we won't know what to do."

That was so hilarious I had to laugh. I began to push chickens forward and give instructions on how many pieces I needed and how I needed the roasts cut. The rest of the men got the vegetables and fruit. They completed in one hour what might have taken me hours in Miami.

I had the rest of the afternoon to myself and, for the first time in four years, I had absolutely no idea what to do.


	7. 5 Nights in the Life of Gangland Legend

**A/N: I'm giving you the terminology at the beginning. **

**Dry Snitch**: Someone who provides information to law enforcement but refuses to testify

**Chirujo**: slang for faggot.

**Flash bangs**: M84 stun grenade.

**Tits up**: Dead

**Blow man**: Hit man

* * *

**Five Nights in the Life of a Gangland Legend**

**Hector's POV—All Conversations in Spanish**

So far, Ranger has had excellent timing with these intel trips. This one falls right during a trip to Miami, and I know I'll need to spend some time in the streets for this.

_1. Rumors of my involvement. Check w/ Piman. 2. ice in Tampa? 3. Connection to Char__._

Good thing I understand 'Ranger shorthand'. Hmm…more obscure this time, but workable. Ronaldo will be my first stop.

* * *

**Sunday Night**

RMMiami was caught off guard. Good. I had a chance to assess. _Angelita_ was not assessing because her mind was elsewhere. Mine wasn't.

They aren't ready for _Angelita_'s review. I'm not entirely clear on everything _Angelita_ looks for, but I know my partner is good. She's sharp. And if this were the real review, it would not have started well for them.

The floor is sloppy. Men look inattentive, as if they're sleepy. My presence causes them to sit up and look alert, so Armando isn't enforcing standards here. I see snacks in the break room that are clearly outside protocol. Since when are _papas rellenas_ appropriate? I pop a few and make a note to do 30 extra minutes on the treadmill.

I don't see Armando, and he doesn't show the entire day. _Angelita_ later informs me that she spoke to him and advised him not to come in. Interesting. He should have poked his head in anyway. His boss is here. This would not have been a question if it had been Ranger. I don't like the blatant disrespect to the position. He better have a good excuse.

I have more important things to do. Ranger needs intel. Time to do some work.

* * *

I head back to Amina. My stop there earlier today was a signal to Ronaldo, the maître d'. I don't stop in unless I need information, and he expects me to return. He put my name out and those with a grudge will be waiting.

I'm in Ranger's SL-550. Nice car. I'd buy one but Hector Manuel is more important. My Lexus is fine for me. I drive by, then pull up three blocks over and assess. Just as I suspected and hoped. There's a hit squad waiting for me. Five idiots. They're mid-levels, but they'll get me what I need.

I reach into the back seat and pull the flash bangs and zip ties. I call back to Armando and tell him to bring me a van. I need the extra room. I pull the helmet, headphones, and goggles. I exit the car and run around the block. Once I'm in place, I wait for Armando to pull into sight. Once he's in place, we act.

We unleash a barrage of gunfire into the trees. The gunmen all run for cover, but bunch up together so no one can sneak up on any one person. Perfect. I detonate the flashbangs near them and run in. They're disoriented and we're able to zip tie all five in six minutes. Not bad. Once the blindfolds and earplugs are in place, we toss all five into the van and secure them down. I nod at Armando and he takes off for the secure building. Not bad; by the time he's a few blocks away, I'm back in Ranger's car, watching the cops arrive to an empty scene. I'm glad MDPD response time was slow tonight.

I return to my apartment. Ranger is waiting. I strip (flashbangs stink. I have to get Ranger's car detailed), shower and change. Ranger is dressed in Miami club attire. I hate my brother. I'm too skinny to ever get that chest. Oh well. At least I'm cut. What I have looks damn good.

"Five in the holding rooms. Mid-level, so someone will come looking for them. Gotta take the Cayenne. I have to get the Merc detailed."

Ranger nods and we leave for the club. Once there, we're nodded in. Our reputations precede us. No one pats us for weapons and there's silence as we pass. _Reyes_ dip their heads in respect.

Sometimes this amazes me. I **divorced** and, because of my determination to live, I'm now treated like a Don.

Piman is waiting in the back. He motions for everyone to leave.

"Good to see you."

They fist bump and Piman and I shake. Ranger and I take seats and decline the weed. Ranger scans for bugs. None.

"_Tigresa_ is here. She leaves Friday."

I'm glad I have my blank face in place. I'm stunned by this. Ranger told an Inca about _Angelita_? He informed an Inca about his woman?

Piman nods. "I'll listen for chatter. Rumble is someone may be talking. Be careful."

SHIT! I can see the fury stiffen Ranger's posture just minutely.

"The noise was out there that something was going on and they're looking for possibles. You haven't been seen in Jersey and your woman is running your company. Your boys are in Texas. It's suspicious." Piman grins. "You're the front runner. No one can figure out how ICE has managed to put away six feds in four different states."

Ranger smirks and I calm. Listen. Assess.

Piman grins at me. "Your legend is growing. How did you manage to get your son's father out of ATL? He went ghost, but the money he was supposedly holding disappeared. Too much paper for anyone to carry and it's clear Nikki ain't got it. Assumption is he's tits up."

I smirk. Good. Mauricio lived to see another day. Pay that fucking child support, asshole.

Piman turns back to Ranger. "I started the usual noise. You're overseas. You're kicking sand. Hope that helps."

Ranger inclines his head. This must be a standard thing for them.

"Two more," Ranger says.

Piman exhales loudly. "The boat?"

Ranger smirks and nods.

Piman turns to me. "Word is out that you're on the streets local. Wear a vest."

I nod.

Ranger and Piman hug and I shake. We leave the club to silent respect. Once in the Cayenne, Ranger turns to me.

"Piman and I go back to childhood. When Julie was kidnapped, Piman suspended trade and put his soldiers on the hunt. A _Reyes_ who recognized Scrog was my first clue."

I now have complete respect for Piman. He stayed loyal and he probably lost hundreds of thousands, if not more, suspending trade to search for Julie.

"I offered to pay him back every penny and he declined. He keeps an ear out. I told him months ago that Steph's running the company. Piman and Armando have beef and Piman's contact is Pedro. He should call Piman every time Steph lands here."

Now this all makes sense.

"DEA and ATF keep handing me contracts to bring him in. I never will. He once saved my life and he helped me retrieve my daughter. If they get him, it'll be through their work, not mine. As long as he protects me and mine, I won't betray him."

Understood.

Ranger cuts his eyes at me. "Nikki? Mauricio?" He smirks. "How did that go down?"

I tell him about the Atlanta trip, ending with my appropriation of Mauricio's long overdue 'child support'. We share a laugh.

"Hector Manuel is safe?"

"Danny put extra tracking on both of them and convinced Nikki to work out at RangeMan. I get constant pictures of Hector Manuel in RangeMan Atlanta gear."

Ranger smiles He's met my son and admires him like another uncle. Danny's actions have reinforced my assessment of Danny to him.

"I'm taking Steph offline with me," Ranger says. I stiffen. "It's been months, Hector. I need my woman."

"Is she your woman?" I ask. Ranger stiffens. "Because you haven't called or texted since this started three months ago."

"I don't want to put her in danger."

"A simple 'Babe' will not put her in danger."

I see Ranger consider this. Idiot. Romance your woman!

"I have six trackers on her. I assume you're taking her to the house?" Ranger nods. "I'll make a list of the trackers and how to turn off the tracking in her phone, but the **moment** she hits RMMiami again, you've got to reactivate them."

Ranger laughs. I wait for him to stop laughing to glare at him. "I mean it. **My** partner. I need to know she's back. All her tracking devices alert my phone."

Ranger sobers, with a tiny smile on his face, and nods. We arrive back at RMMiami in silence.

I'll deal with our friends tomorrow night.

* * *

**Monday**

White kid's name is Matt. Hired for tech, which means he reports to me, but I had no knowledge of him. See, this is why Armando gets in trouble. He likes to deviate from SOPs on occasion, which leads to confusion in the ranks. I need to start quizzing _Angelita_ on the SOPs. I'll bet she hasn't read them, and she'll need to know them back and front to catch Armando's stupidity.

I review the résumé. It's good, really good, and Armando did some very fast talking about hiring the kid and putting him on probation until he met with me. I smile and Armando realizes he's in serious trouble.

"No one is hired for tech without my approval. We'll be on the mats at 0700, Armando. Don't be late."

I turn to the kid. "You can consider yourself on probation until I assess you. Do you have any access to any of the systems?"

He shakes his head. "No, sir. My first day in tech is technically Wednesday. I've been on standard RangeMan probation until now."

Hmm . . . "Background?"

He swallows hard. "Just finished Florida Atlantic, sir. No military. No kind of record. College, then here."

Fresh meat and wet behind the ears, but he doesn't look as young as stated. I'm aging him up. 25? 27? I smell a rat. I nod and turn to Armando.

"Short leash." I'll assess him later. I have a trip to make.

Armando nods and I leave.

Now that _Angelita_'s offline with Ranger, I have freedom to get out and about. I take the Merc for a detail, then head over to Tampa. I think I'll see Nacho.

Nacho is another hacker, but he's also a fed. He did his best to bring me in while he was based in Jersey, so I took down his entire household network, stole his money, and fucked with his credit reports. Interesting pictures on his computer. I copied those a few times and kept them for blackmail.

We have a grudging respect. I returned his money and cleaned his credit. No point going down for theft, wire fraud and embezzlement when I just dodged a murder rap.

I pull up to his house at 6PM. I can see the wife and kids sitting at dinner. Good. He'll be nervous and anxious to get me off his doorstep.

"Hector." He's pale and shaky.

"Lover," I purr. Inside, I'm dying of laughter. Someday, Nacho, your wife will find out.

"Nathan, is everything OK?" His wife comes to the door. I smile at her.

"Liz, right? Pleasure to meet you. I'm Pedro." I can see her confusion.

"Pedro and I worked a case in Jersey, baby." He kisses the wife and ushers her back inside, but she's undeterred.

"Pedro, please come in. We're just finishing dinner. Can I offer you something to drink?"

I accept some water and sit in the living room. Nacho is very nervous now.

"What do you want?" he hisses.

"Calm down," I mutter, amused. "I'm not here to expose your lifestyle. Just need information."

He calms slightly and nods. "Nothing classified."

I shrug. "Can't promise that."

"I'll lose my job."

I put the 'psycho smile' face into place. He pales. "Two feds in Charlotte, Mason and Jackson. What's the deal?"

Nacho relaxes. Good. He'll talk. "Gossip says they were holding a major gang member, ALKN, in Atlanta, working with him to bring down someone in Miami. He got wind that a hit was placed on him and begged for protective custody, but not before betraying his boys. Mason and Jackson moved him to Charlotte with the intention of cutting him loose until word got out that **you** might be close by."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Sounds like they're targeting another Inca here but they're keeping it close to the vest. Either case, if they manage this, promotion is guaranteed."

"No discretion."

"They're calling in favors from everywhere to pull this off, but they're keeping a close eye on their boy. You won't get close. That's why the Marshals are involved."

"Don't care about him. Just needed info on them."

I stand and shake his hand. Liz appears.

"Going so soon?"

I smile. "Afraid I must. Thank you for your warm hospitality."

She beams then turns to Nacho. "I'll see him to the door. Nathaniel is acting up."

Nacho shoots me a look then walks off. Liz turns to me, all smiles gone. She looks fierce.

"Are you my husband's lover?"

I raise an eyebrow and contemplate smiling. She's suspicious. Good. "No."

"Have you ever been?"

"No."

She relaxes. "Is he gay? Down low?" She looks hopeful and I don't want to burst her bubble.

I look at her calmly for a moment. "Why ask me a question you already know the answer to?"

Tears appear in her eyes and I hand her my handkerchief. She declines and walks me to the door. At the threshold, I turn to her.

"If you want to know the truth, it's amazing what you can find on the computer and in credit card charges. Just sayin'." After all, it's how I figured it out. The man had 5GB of gay porn and pictures on his computer.

She nods. I shake her hand and leave.

Once in the car, I ask, "You get that?"

"I got everything," Manny replies. My phone was on the entire time. "Intel I have says they're using an Inca who is a 'dry snitch' to set up another Inca who's at the top of the ranks. Also, Ranger's a target. Feds are pissed he keeps protecting him instead of taking the contracts to bring him in."

Only person that fits is Piman. Shit! That's a problem. If he's Ranger's boy, he needs to know. He's going to have to clean house. And Ranger needs to know he's a target.

"Bigger problem. I'm hearing the word _chirujo_ kicked around."

My blood runs cold. That might mean me. No one has ever known me to take a lover, but I know the gossip is out there. It's a killable offense if you're still in; I'm not, but still . . . I learned long ago to keep my personal life very quiet.

Three hour trip back to Miami. I hope our friends are feeling rested and ready to talk.

* * *

**Tuesday Morning**

0130. I'm feeling fine. Best part of this op: I get to sleep during the day.

Armando and I are the only ones in this building. It's a specialized location, just for 'information extraction' of the not quite legal variety.

I'm not military. No one can court martial me. If you want to arrest me, catch me first.

Armando is looking squeamish. My knives have already had a workout tonight on Idiots #1 and 2. Idiot #3 is not doing himself any favors.

"Let's try this again. You're working with . . ."

"Fuck you."

OK. _Slice_. Scream. Wait.

"Your value to me decreases as you hold out. I begin to suspect you know nothing. I begin to consider your death. Shall I make it a painful reality?" _Slice_. Scream. _Slice_. Scream. Wait. "Or shall I be merciful and put you out your misery?"

"Fuck you."

"As you wish." Quick blow to the temples to put him out. I slump him in the corner. He looks dead and that's all that's needed. Armando marches the next man in. He takes a look at his boys and at me and pisses himself.

_Sigh_. I love my rep, but I wish it didn't encourage so many to lose control of their bladders. I hate smelling of piss.

"You can join them in the corner or you can talk. Your choice."

He flows like a fountain. Piman did Rey dirty in a deal and he's been pissed about it, but instead of ordering a contract, he decided to deal with the feds. Piman is gaining a rep as untouchable and other Incas are nervous and angry. After all, Piman now has all Reyes from Miami to Atlanta. That's a lot of powerful, profitable territory.

The rumor that a legendary Spec force _Reyes_ is on his side does not help the situation. My rumored moves against Rey also infuriated a lot of Incas. They want that kind of coverage. They intended to kidnap me and 'convince' me to turn Ranger to their side, work as an enforcer for the ALKN. After all, I'm legendary and Ranger has his own army of men, ready to move at his command. So I'm betting Mason and Jackson are setting up Piman and Danilo, his don. Whew! Not me, Danilo. He's so far in the closet I wonder how anyone found out.

I'm furious but amused. After all the shit I went through to get out, you think I'd come back? You really think I'd betray Ranger? I'd slit my own throat first. _Jesús Cristo_. This is getting ridiculous.

Idiot #5 refuses to talk. Fine. I have what I need and so does Manny.

Quick blow to the temples and I drop them all in the van. My talker gets dropped on Miami Beach.

The idiots are dropped naked on a highway in the middle of the Glades. If they live and make it back, they can have their lives.

* * *

0700 finds me on the mats with Armando. I'm merciful and leave it at 30 minutes.

Mando is out of shape. He can barely hold his own with me.

I nod Matt onto the mats. Step 1 of being hired to work for me: I need to see you on the mats. I start by instilling fear. If you know what will happen, you will strive to never fuck up.

30 minutes later, my assessment is over. Kid's OK. He's taken jujitsu and he's not bad, but I still take him down time after time. He's bleeding and is fearful. Good.

"Sign up for some refresher courses," I tell him. He nods. "10 minutes, server room."

I shower and change. He's in the server room when I get there. I start a review of his résumé and practical skills. He's not bad. I could actually use him in Atlanta more, but something's fishy. His answers are too perfect.

"Why did you apply here?"

"I need a job. Economy sucks and RangeMan is known in Miami for the work atmosphere."

He's just fucked up. I knew something was fishy. This kid has no ins in the groups that we traditionally hire from, so how did he really hear about us?

I have him fill out some paperwork and send him on to Silvio. Still on probation, no access to any systems. I call Nate and ask him to start an audit of the system, beginning with Miami. He shouldn't find anything but better safe than sorry. I place the paperwork in clear protectors and call Mando.

"Kid's a plant. Has to be. Who knows how to fingerprint around here?"

Tony can fingerprint. I'll have my answers tomorrow.

* * *

**Tuesday night**

I decide to take a night off and do some 'unauthorized' digging. I start first by locating Mauricio. He's alive and he scooted to Memphis. Fine.

I call Nikki.

"Hey! How's my son?"

Nikki laughs. "He's fine. He's learning to read so I'm sure he'll want to read to you when you talk to him."

He can read! I have tears in my eyes.

"Otherwise, we're good here. I noticed I was being followed at one point, so we camped at RangeMan Atlanta for a few days. Danny was good to me and the guys there are really nice."

I smile. Danny gave me the heads up. They followed Nikki's stalkers. They were ALKN, as I suspected. Danny administered a little 'warning' on my behalf and he reported that they pretty much left Nikki and Hector Manuel alone after that. He did place a guard on them for a week, just to make sure.

Danny has officially been placed on my incredibly short list of 'friends'.

"Oh, I meant to tell you, I got a second interview with one of the consulting firms I applied at. I would go in as a programmer, but with my CIS degree, I could interview for a management trainee program to get on the fast track."

"Great Nikki! Do you need anything to help with that?"

"No. Not so far. I do need to ask you for one thing, Hec."

"What is it, Nikki?"

"I want to move Manny's daycare." Thank god. The place he's at now is OK, but it's not the best. Security was shit, which I pointed out to Nikki. "If I move him to the other place we discussed, you know it costs more, but they have better hours and a better program."

"Move him. You already know how I feel about it. Set up direct withdrawals so the money comes directly out of the account with your child support in it. Just do me two favors."

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever answer the door without a weapon in hand again. There's too much shit going on right now for you to walk around defenseless." My voice is ice cold when I say this and I can hear Nikki swallow.

"Right. I'll do better, Hector."

"Please. I don't want anything to happen to either of you."

"OK. Second favor?"

"Before you fill out the authorizations, talk to Danny. I want Hector Manuel to be able to leave with a RangeMan if it is necessary, and Danny will give you a list of his most trustworthy men."

"I'm ahead of you. I already talked to Danny about adding him and some of his men to Manny's current daycare, so I'll transfer his choices to the new place."

Great. Another layer of protection on my son. Nikki passes the phone to him and, after we talk about his day, he reads me a Curious George book. I'm beyond proud. I go online and find that the book is rated 3+. I order all the Curious George books I can find on Amazon and all the Dr. Seuss's.

My son deserves the best.

* * *

**Wednesday Morning**

This morning I get the fingerprints back. Tony took them to a friend at MDPD for analysis.

Matthew Johnson. 22. College kid. One arrest for a drunk and disorderly. Otherwise clean.

I take the info back to my room and start running it.

Matthew McGhee. 27. ICE Agent, first undercover assignment. I assume this is a fake record, in case someone starts poking, so I start a true search.

The intel is amusing. Sorry, Matt. They didn't cover your tracks well enough. I call Nate; the network is clean. No Trojans, no stealth programs making copies of our system. Good. I tell Nate to watch the traffic; I'm going to check. Two hours later, I'm done. Nothing out there. Good.

I call Ranger, ask how he wants to handle this. Ranger replies, "He's yours. They hired him for your area."

I smile and email Matt to meet me on the mats at 1900.

Matt is there at 1900, looking nervous. Silvio, Mando, Thomas, and Shane are also there. Good.

"Monitoring suspended?"

Mando nods.

I wave to Matt. This session will last an hour.

An hour later, I'm getting a second wind and Matt is on the ground, bleeding. I turn to Silvio. "There's a reason why you don't hire for tech without informing me."

I reach into the pocket of my cargoes.

"Matthew Wallace. 28. Graduate of Quantico and GA Tech. Works for DEA, currently on a joint task force with the ATF. This is his third undercover assignment. Last two got him commendations for successfully bringing in drug lords."

Matt's pale on the ground. I motion for him to stand up. "I'm allowing you to walk out under your own power. Tell your supers you failed this assignment. There are no drug lords here, just security experts who listen to their instincts. Ranger is already aware of the 'dissatisfaction' with his reluctance to take a certain case."

Matt nods, pained. "Tell your boss he's under investigation."

Mando and his group are shocked. I nod. "He already knows. He'll deliver his own message when he's stateside again. Just remember: they pay him for his brilliance. They need to quit second guessing it."

Matt nods and turns to leave. Mando follows him. I look at Silvio and smile. He groans and steps onto the mats.

Shut up fucker. You earned this. This is why I now have your job. He slid by you, not me.

* * *

**Wednesday night**

Yesterday's 'unauthorized' digging turned up something intriguing. A name mentioned by Manny Tuesday night. I decide to go back to Tampa and take a look. This might be the 'ice' reference in Ranger's assignment.

I apply makeup to the teardrop tattoos this time and I'm dressed in my nicest Boss. Just in case I need to mingle. Issey Miyake layered on, gel in the hair, the right accessories to match.

Fresh, clean, ready to smile and flirt.

I pull up in Ybor City and head to Havana, a historic restaurant. I'm dressed like money and I've spent enough time around Ranger and Bobby to shave off all the rough edges, so I look like I belong. Time spent with Bobby taught me everything I needed to know to operate at the higher levels of society. No one could guess he came from money. Bobby's background and pedigree reads like a black Who's Who.

I'd never heard of Who's Who before Bobby. That's what I want for my son. I want him to be able to dress, talk, and behave as a natural at every level of society. I want him to have Bobby's class, Tank's loyalty, Lester's sense of fun, and Ranger's brilliance. From me, I want him to learn to be a man of his word. If my son manages that, I will have succeeded as a man and as a father.

Subtly placed $50 gets me in without a reservation. I slide up to the bar and flirt with a pretty little thing until I can talk her into sharing a table with me. I allow her to chatter (USF, Art major, trying to model, tan like she spends all day at the beach, blah blah blah) while I nod politely and try to get a bead on my subject. Finally, he shows. William Knox is a high ranking ICE agent. His dinner companions are not. Knox, my subject, is a regular at this place and his cards suggested he would be here tonight.

I turn back to Miss USF (Tiffany? Tania? Tanis? Can't remember) and smile. If I swung her way, I'd take her home. Unfortunately for her, I like my men to look like her. Tall, willowy, tan, fit, great smile, great eyes, great ass. This is why _Angelita_ will never guess my type. My type is as close to a woman as a man can get without being a cross dresser. It confuses Nikki. Why sleep with men if your men look as effeminate as mine? I can't answer that. I like what I like. I refuse to do to some woman what Nacho is doing to Liz. That shit's dishonest. Be honest about who you are.

Nikki is hoping I might be bisexual. I tried it. No thanks. Her _chocha_ is as close to one as I ever want to be again and, even then, my son was fighting his way into the world. That was the **only** reason I was there.

I motion Tallis (whew! Remembered) onto the dance floor. It's near my subjects. Thankfully, she knows how to swing those hips. Now, if she could just quit trying to reach my crotch. I try to listen to the conversation.

"Rumors are plaguing ICE. . . no one knows . . . six agents down . . . military says he's on assignment . . . Pakistan, I hear . . . Have a plant in his organization . . . impossible to break in otherwise . . . only other option is in California . . . no leverage . . . considering actions against the company . . . no chance. They're clean . . ."

The music switches to a bachata. Positive: It's slow and I can stay in one place. Negative: Tallis is now officially in my crotch. I hide my face in her neck and grind. Please please give me the info I need before this song ends. This girl's going to realize something is up when nothing on me comes up.

"Look, James, simple fact is, someone's running a sting. No one knows who's behind it. We originally thought Mañoso might be involved, but all info says he's overseas somewhere. Even his handler is saying he's on assignment. So we need to look at other possibilities."

"The info on the ground is different, Will. Info in the streets says he might be involved and he's pulled in others to help."

"Well, that tells me that it's false. Mañoso works alone, notorious for it, unless he's working with his partners. They're in Texas and Texas hasn't lost any agents. So it can't be Mañoso."

"Well, if you're certain it can't be Mañoso, you don't have a lot of options left. Maguiles in Cali is the next best option, but he's involved with ATF out there. Sidwell in GA is next and he's a possible but he wouldn't be able to get the kind of intel necessary to get these guys put away this fast. I can search to see if there's an up and comer trying to make a name for himself. Are you sure you want to take Mañoso off the list officially?"

"Yes. No point in continuing to search." His phone beeps. "FUCK!"

"What?"

"Our plant was uncovered. The man who found him said that Mañoso will deliver his own message when he's stateside again." Everyone at the table groans.

I grin mentally. Yes! That was an inspired moment.

"Well, that confirms," 'Will' says. "Mañoso is not in charge of this op, and we can't chance another plant in his group. Let's start looking at options."

Just in time. The song ends and Tallis is looking at me, confused. I smile.

"Dessert?" She nods and we order dessert. I allow her to talk again (blah blah blah) while I assess this trip.

Complete success. I'm partying at the clubs tomorrow. I've earned it.

* * *

**Thursday Night**

Ranger and Manny thought my intel was good but they wanted to hear more about my night with Tallis. Nothing to say. I took Tallis home, turned down her offers of a nightcap, sex, and kinky pics. I went back to the apartment, emailed all the info I got and went to sleep. They laughed and complimented me on getting a gorgeous woman all hot and bothered, then leaving her. I shook my head at them.

Bit of inspired hacking gets me the info on the two competitors I heard about. Neither of them is in Ranger's league, so I can see why Knox was perplexed. I reassess the initial info.

_1. Rumors of my involvement. Check w/ Piman._ Done. We now know how and why and have been able to help the rumor that Ranger is overseas along.

_2. ice in Tampa?_ Done. Knox is our man but I need more info on him. He's a nervous guy for someone who is that high up. Plus, he sent a plant to RangeMan. Tried to place him in my area. He's now a personal enemy for me until I know otherwise.

_3. Connection to Char._ Done. Got more info on the connection between Piman and Rey than I ever wanted to know.

I dress in my Miami club wear and say a prayer. I hope God is still willing to listen to me. Sixth sense is saying I'll be shot at tonight. I hope I'm wrong but you never know.

_Dios te salve, Maria; Llena eres de gracia. El Señor es contigo._

(Hail Mary, full of Grace. Our Lord is with you).

The Miami guys seem surprised and shocked when I join them on 5 to head to the clubs. My sexuality is an open secret in RangeMan, but their surprise is amusing. I love to dance. It's one of the best parts of being partnered with my _Angelita_: built in dance partner. I like hitting the clubs and dancing the night away and so does she. She gets to put some of her Burg training to good use. Sucks I have to be on guard for a blow man tonight.

_Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres. Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre: Jesús._

(Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus).

We travel to _Tango!_ in South Beach. This is usually a difficult club to get into, but two well placed c-notes and we're in. Lots of beautiful women who know how to dance, so I'm on the dance floor. I'm on my guard, so I can't drink; I'm downing water as fast as they can bring it. I'm sweating rivers and mopping my brow as quickly as I can.

I give up. I can't dance comfortably or scan as effectively as I'd like, so I head to our seats. I'll hold the table.

I spend the rest of the evening sipping Sprite and scanning the dance floor. I don't see a possible blow man, so it will be a drive-by. My instincts are screaming that I will die tonight, so I text Ranger. He advises me not to leave before the rest of the guys. If I'm the target, being surrounded won't give them a clear shot. I'll need to tell Mando about this.

_Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores,_

(Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners)

I hate that thought. I'm no girl to be covered. Then again, my _Angelita_needs her partner not to put his pride before her safety. Fine. I'll walk out in the middle of the group. Mando returns to the table and I quietly tell him the dilemma. He texts everyone that no one leaves separately tonight. I'll need coverage. I can see confusion on the faces of the men as they return to the table, so I explain that my instincts are screaming that I'll die tonight. I need my brothers around me. That changes the attitudes of the men. They're now on the alert for the asshole who intends to take one of us down.

Finally, at 0200 we leave the club. We're walking nonchalantly but everyone is on the alert for a blow man. I finally figure it out.

_ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte_

(now and at the hour of our death).

"**DOWN!"**

I say it in just enough time to watch Ranger's car begin to smoke. Thank god for all the anti-bomb material on the undercarriage. It won't catch fire or explode. As we hit the ground, the gunshots are fired.

_Amén_.


	8. We Heard

**Chapter 43.3: We Heard**

**Shane's POV**

I can't fucking believe this.

47 bugs? 47? Shit! Liam's an asshole, and I hope Bobby broke both his legs.

When I left NYC for Miami, I was determined to show that I was an excellent strategist and I knew what the fuck I was doing. Liam was giving me the updates from NYC. He said Javi was failing. He said that it was just a matter of time before Manny and Diego called for him to go. Diego clearly hated him. Manny was reserving opinion, but Javi would probably fail.

Clearly, Liam was blowing smoke up my ass.

I'm wondering if it was just a Hispanic thing. I mean, the CO sent two Hispanic guys to the branch and the Hispanic guy passes but the white guy failed. The disadvantage of being in a minority-owned and -run company is that the white guys get the weird looks here, especially if you have a cop background. I never thought that was an issue at RangeMan. If nothing else, this company hires on talent, even if that talent has a record, but still. . . sometimes, you gotta wonder.

Then again, three of the five XOs are white, so maybe not. The CO is a white woman, so . . . maybe not.

Miami is silently watching Bobby conduct Liam's "exit interview". I still can't believe that Liam, that asshole, was the reason I kept losing bids. Liam was the reason my contracts were always declined. The more Bobby talks, the more furious I am. By the time Liam is on the ground, I'm absolutely livid. I really and truly hope that Bobby broke every fucking bone in his body.

We were right. It was a trap and we were all being tested. Manny and Diego set up Javier and Liam and, somehow, Javier passed. I didn't think he should be in charge, and I was hoping Diego and Manny would find evidence to toss his ass. In any case, Liam knew it was a fucking test and his dumb ass failed, and I'm thrilled he failed.

Once I stopped being pissed that Javi called the CO on us, I was excited. That irritating, stupid, frustrating shit-head would be gone soon, and I'd be able to prove that I should have been named XO all along. I just needed to show how good I was. The CO believed I could bring my talents and skills to Miami and show the Miami boys how to run a branch.

I didn't have any love for Javier. Fussy, difficult, slow, he was a nightmare as a boss. But, listening to Bobby talk, I realize that everything he said was true. Javier always backed me up. He always tried to help me once I gave him an idea that he agreed to move on. He ignored all the chatter that said Liam and I were disloyal and he backed us to the hilt and, for the first time ever, I feel a little sorry for the way I treated him. I still don't think he should have been the XO but . . . I look over at Armando and wince.

Mando's face is cool. I don't and won't get any love from Mando. Mando has made it clear that he thinks I'm a shit strategist, and he isn't mad about RangeMan brotherhood like Javier was. Mando will toss my ass under a bus in a heartbeat if he thinks I'm being disloyal, and the Miami men talk. These motherfuckers talk to each other. The Miami men might drive Mando crazy, but they also ensure he knows everything going on in this office.

Ranger made it clear that I had one quarter to prove I knew what I was doing. I'm one month in and I'm not getting any love from my temporary boss, and I've not given him anything that he can move on. I'm thinking as hard and fast as I can, but everything I have either isn't Ranger's standards (as I'm told repeatedly) or they've already done it. Instead, Mando's giving me ideas to move on and I'm pretty sure they're coming from Diego. His NYC work is making him a superstar in the company. I'm stunned. He's doing shit in NYC that I can't believe, stuff I never considered.

Gossip here in Miami is that he and Manny are pulling NYC back and **fast**. They're considered serious up and comers, and since it's known here in Miami that Diego is pulling for an XO position, the guys here have their fingers crossed that he's a contender for San Antonio. I was astonished. The San Antonio XO position is considered up for grabs? I need to show brilliance and maybe I can get that.

The "'interview'" ends and Bobby addresses the men. I'm stunned to learn that I won't be returning to NYC, no matter what. I listen closely to his words and I immediately understand the context. We both failed, at least partially. My chances of becoming an XO are somewhere near a snowball's chance in hell. My future as a RangeMan depends on my performance here in Miami, and I'll bet Armando is the one reporting on me. I look over and . . . yeah, Mando's face is ice cold. I won't last at this branch either unless I get some good ideas soon.

Time to start considering options. I may not have a future in RangeMan if I can't get something going. I'll give myself one more month, but I need to leave before the words "exit interview" are imminent.

* * *

**Hal's POV**

I'm wondering if that's what my bout with King looked like to everyone. If so, then I understand how I've developed a rep for mat skills. Bobby's bout—"interview"—with Liam looks painful. Bobby is the member of Leadership Core I hate to spar with. No matter how fast I move, Bobby always manages to hit me somewhere that I have to ice later. Tank once told me that one day I'd figure out how Bobby did it. Then he asked for the Bio-Freeze, so I'm guessing he might not have mastered it yet either.

I'm surprised that Sis is awake, but then, she's really mad about what happened to Javier. I'm still reeling from everything I heard. Poor Javi. I'm glad Bobby fixed his rep company-wide. Javier didn't deserve what happened to him, and Bobby and Sis made sure the men knew who was really at fault. The men here in Trenton are nodding subconsciously. Leadership and chain of command matter here. I don't worry about being undermined. You'd have to be insane to try me. I've already demonstrated what **my** response will be.

Again, Sis's point about gossip in this company is driven home. Gossip said Javi was the chatterbox and the gossip was wrong. Javi isn't a leaker. Manny told me that Javi talks to the XO's and his Core Team. I understood and respected that. I talk to Danny, Ram, and Manny. That's it. Danny is my colleague and competition, but he's also the closest I'm going to get to an XO mentor in this company, and I'm grateful. He's quick to help me weave through options and tell me how things have been done and are supposed to be done. Plus, he believes in Sis and thinks she's doing a great job. Any man who believes in and backs my little sister like Danny does gets my support. I still owe him for that swag, though.

I look at Javi, who is standing at the side of the mats. I need to call him, extend him some XO brotherhood. He was constantly undermined and now he has a branch to rebuild. I guess I'll get over my irritation with his co-opting my strategist. He needs Manny even more than I do. Manny needs a raise. He's building two branches **and **helping the CCO with his op. Yeah, time for me to make sure my people are taken care of.

"Sir?"

"Hal?" Tank.

"I have a request, sir."

"Proceed."

"I'm calling on behalf of Manny. Manny is going above and beyond, sir. Two branches, the extra work, **and** RangeWorld? I can't think of a way to properly reward him for all he's doing."

Silence on the line. "I'll consider it. Continue to look after your men. I continue to be impressed by your performance." _Click_.

I'm grinning at my phone. Tank is impressed by my performance and I'm not getting angry emails. I must be doing something right. I'm determined to get this right.

At 1800, I get an email from Tank.

"_Question for God every morning: What is the main event today? What do you want me to focus on today?"_

_Does this inform your leadership? If so, keep moving forward. If not, add it to your daily affirmations._

_Tank_

I immediately copy it into my folder and save the email. I read my Bible every morning, but I'll add this to my morning affirmations.

* * *

**Adam's POV**

Atlanta Core team immediately went to Danny's office after the "exit interview". I'm not sure what to think. I never liked Liam. Something about him struck me as wrong, but what did I know? Turns out, I was right. He was a fucking leech, sucking RangeMan NYC dry. I wonder if he'll get dropped in a 'Stan. He deserves it.

Danny looks at me and Chase and shakes his head. "I've never worried, for a moment, about whether you guys were loyal to me and my leadership. Thank you for never giving me that pain."

We nod. Danny passes the scotch and we each take a generous amount and kick back. Before we can sip, Danny raises a hand and opens the door. In walks every member of the RangeMan Atlanta leadership team. The scotch is passed around (Danny must be feeling generous. This is the expensive single malt!) and every man takes whatever available seat he can. Scotch at 0630. This will be serious.

Danny stands before us, raises his glass and takes a small sip. We all imitate him and wait for him to speak.

"We've been through a lot here in Atlanta. We've had a lot of pain and a lot of triumphs. Now it seems we are headed to strength and success like we've never had it before, but it's moments like this when I need to tell all of you how much I appreciate your work. I appreciate each and every one of you. I appreciate your dedication, your loyalty, and your honesty. Watching this morning's session in NYC reminded me of how lucky I am to have a leadership team around me I can trust and rely on." Danny looks every man in the eye, and we're all nodding. "That was **our** Core member who delivered that ass whooping. I've always admired Bobby because Bobby is upfront. Calm, cool, and collected. The Bobby we saw this morning? That man was furious. I **never** want to see **him** here in Atlanta." Complete agreement throughout the room.

Danny leans against his desk and smiles. "So, I am saying 'thank you' to each of you. Thank you for sticking with the team and the branch, even when it seemed as if we'd always be scraping the bottom. Thank you for never losing hope that we would rise again. Thank you for working hard on the goal of capturing the number one position. And I also want to say that it's very possible that we will be called on to provide assistance to NYC soon. If that happens, let's take the brotherhood and loyalty we have here in Atlanta to NYC and show them what RangeMan brotherhood really means." Danny raises his glass and we smile.

"To RangeMan Brotherhood!"

* * *

**Thomas's POV**

Never been so fucking happy to watch a beat down in my life. Mando and I are watching Shane, who looks stunned, angry, and fearful with each new thing he hears. When it's over, he's pale. He looked over at us every so often and the looks on our faces did not reassure him.

We already know, you little shit. Diego told us all. Your ass is grass. Don't get comfortable. You won't stay here either.

Now, the CO's chats with Mando are making sense. She didn't want him to actively assess Shane, but she did want his impressions of Shane. We figured that out pretty quickly, so we watched him like a hawk and we reported exactly what we saw.

He's a shit strategist. He has nothing to offer Miami. Once he exhausted his bodyguard ideas, Mando looked at him coolly and let him know we'd implemented everything he was suggesting. Give us something new. He had nothing, so we've been passing him ideas from Diego. He can't execute those properly. He's useless and Mando told the CO that during his weekly call. He said that it sounded as if she was hoping he'd come up with something new and Mando, true to his nature, told her that occasionally even a good strategist would run dry on ideas for a while. However, if you don't have something in six weeks, something's wrong. You need inspiration or encouragement, something to get the juices going again. He's been here four weeks, and we aren't confident of in his ability to produce anything worth following up on. Hell, we were feeding Shane ideas and he was still failing. We don't want him.

Shane nods at us and walks quickly to his office. We look around the bullpen. It's quiet and hostile. Mando walks to the dais and addresses the room.

"It's not our job to assess him. That belongs to the CO and the Leadership Core and, as we've all seen this morning, they **will** make the decision. Don't bring an "'exit interview"' down on yourselves or this office. Continue to follow Shane as you should. He is still the strategist for this office until the CO decides otherwise."

"Mando," Antonio says. I groan mentally. "Seems to me that if a man will betray his XO in one location he'll do it in another. So why are we keeping him? I say we get rid of him." There are nods around the room and I wish, yet again, we could get rid of this asshole. Come on, Mando! Fire his ass.

Mando sighs. "What did I just say? It's the CO's job to determine what will happen to him, not ours. Bobby didn't say anything that suggests that he was disloyal to his XO, just that he won't be returning to NYC."

"Really? We're leaving a decision on RangeMan brotherhood to a woman? She's not a brother—"

"But she is in charge. And you and I can meet on the mats for that, Antonio," Mando says, irritated. "It's not your job to determine who should do what. I've said what will happen here. Shane will stay and continue as our strategist until the CO decides otherwise."

Mando steps down and we walk to his office. We close the door and grab the tequila.

"What do you think?" Mando asks, rubbing his temples.

"'Bout what? 'Bout the fact that you need to fire that little shit? Or what we witnessed this morning?"

Mando chuckles. "No, please Thomas, don't hold back. Tell me what you **really** think." We both chuckle and take a shot.

"Fire your cousin. As for this morning? Shane's a short timer and I think he realized it. He knows you have no love for him and if he's smart, he's realized I don't either. I think the only question remaining is if he's a short timer with an "exit interview" looming or if he'll be smart enough to submit a resignation and hope for mercy."

There's a knock at the door and Shane sticks his head in. "Can I come in?"

Mando waves him in and tosses him a shot glass. He pours himself a shot and sits. We're waiting on him to say something. Finally, he knocks the shot back and speaks.

"I never betrayed Javi like Liam did. I didn't think Javi should be the XO, but I never realized Liam was doing us both in. I was just as betrayed as Javier was. I'm asking the two of you what you think I should do."

Mando and I kick back and stare at him. Finally, Mando speaks. "It wasn't your place to second guess the Leadership Core's decision to place Javier at the head. Clearly, they saw something in him that they didn't see in you. And don't tell me, an XO in this company, that you were as betrayed as Javi. You weren't." Mando is leaning forward and he's pinned Shane with a lethal glare.

"As an XO, you have to trust your men. You can't second guess them. You have to believe they'll follow your orders, especially your Core team. Javi was betrayed by you and by Liam, make no mistake, because you and Javi should've been a team. He should've been able to lean on you, but you left him out there to die. He **never** did that to you. He supported you. He backed you. He did what he was supposed to as your boss. I'm not Javier. I **will** throw your ass under a bus if I suspect you're disloyal. But even there, I'm still supporting you. I've told the men to follow you as the strategist. They'll follow your orders, even as they question you."

Mando sits back and I pick up. "You want to know what you should do? You should write an elegant resignation letter and beg the CO for a demotion and new assignment. That's what you should do. We've already reported that you're a shit strategist. I'm not leaving my XO to your clutches and, thanks to this morning's video, every XO in the company knows that you're suspect. You won't get another leadership position anywhere in the company. Accept a demotion and pray for the best."

I sit back and glare at him coldly. Shane is pale, eyes wide. "Javier will rebuild NYC with a new Core team around him, men who will be loyal to him and will follow his orders. After this morning, every man at RangeMan NYC will rally around him. They now know that the XO cares about them and their success and they'll help him pull the branch back. There won't be any room for you, and your partner-in-crime won't be mobile for months. Doesn't matter anyway. Knowing Leadership Core, I'd take bets on the 'Stan he gets dropped in."

Mando and I look at each other and knock back our shots. Shane leaves. Smart man.

* * *

**Rodney's POV**

Boston is silent. Completely. We don't know what to think.

We finally have our first glimpse of the CO in action and she was fierce. She kicked the man in the knee then kneed him in the balls. Every man in Boston cringed. And she was the one to actually fire him. Even more, it was clear that she and Bobby were one in this firing. When she made the statement that she hated liars, every man here was solemn.

I wasn't surprised that Liam was the leak in NYC, but I'm already mourning the loss of my liaison buddy. Hell, getting NYC news used to be the easiest thing in the world. If Mark didn't get it from the men, I could always get it directly from the liaison. Liaisons in this company lean on each other. We're the quickest way to move info, but the CO's presence in the company is shutting the info down. When I asked Ram about it, he was quiet, then cool. Icicles have more warmth than his explanation did.

"The CO doesn't mind the dissemination of correct, accurate news at the appropriate time by the appropriate people. What she can't stand is unsubstantiated gossip. She **hates** gossip and this company passes gossip off as news. She's setting a new standard. Correct, accurate news will always be OK. Suppositions by the official company management in furtherance of **company** goals will be OK. Random bullshit from the men to pass the time? Not OK. Find some shit for them to do. If they have time to gossip like teenage girls, they aren't busy enough."

Well, that was clear. Even Mark and Pat understood that, and it explains why news from Atlanta dried up so fast. It explains why Accounting shut up. It explains why Trenton rarely passes news, and it explains why our men in NYC have said nothing. It's clear that the CO will need to move someone in there temporarily in order to ensure the position is being filled. I would bet Adam from Atlanta, which means we won't learn shit from NYC anymore. NYC is about to be subject to a blackout.

Mark strides to the dais and looks out over the men. "Liam Hannigan was subject to an "exit interview" because he forgot that rule one in this company is 'RangeMan Brotherhood'. He didn't take it seriously. He did not extend it to his XO, his strategist, or his men, so Bobby did not extend it to him. I would expect that he **will** be dropped in a 'Stan." Mark looks out over the company. The men are quiet. "What you have seen is the "treason" response to misconduct in this company. If you ever hear that Bobby is conducting an "exit interview", someone has committed treason and it is being dealt with swiftly."

Mark leaves the dais and nods us into his office. We pull the brandy and sit.

"Thoughts?" Mark asks softly.

"Adam from Atlanta will move to fill the liaison position," I announce.

Pat looks at me then nods. "I agree. Manny is already there. It's known that Hal is nervous that the CO keeps moving his Core team. She'll poach from Atlanta for this."

"Why not Miami? Or us?" Mark asks, pissed. We stare at him.

"Miami? She won't trust them until she sees them. Us?" I raise an eyebrow at Mark. "You."

"Me?"

"Oh come on, Mark," Pat says, exasperated. "You! All you've done is eavesdrop on everyone else, so the CO isn't moving anyone from Boston if she doesn't have to. Haven't you noticed that our men in NYC aren't passing back info? You taught them to respect the leadership wherever they are. If someone in NYC ordered them not to pass info back to Boston, they'll respect that and keep their mouths shut. I would guess Manny probably gave them that order."

Mark's shoulders slump. He hadn't considered that. Finally, he nods.

"Any idea what she's up to?"

Jesus! I hoped he was done with this vendetta. I look at Pat, who looks as irritated as me. He nods at me to start. "No. And Mark?" Mark looks up, hopeful. "Stop. Just end it. Accept the decision." Mark's jaw clenches. "No one in this company, that she's met, is going to inform on her. Trenton and Atlanta have shut all news down. Ryan's made it clear to his people that any news disseminated from Accounting will lead directly to a firing. No exceptions. He's not going to be responsible for leaks and his people have shut up. Not even the Miami boys can get anything. What I'm getting from Pedro is that passwords were changed, locks updated, and anything left out on anyone's desk will lead to mat time the next day."

"Miami can't pick locks?" Mark asks, disgusted.

I sigh and shake my head. "Yeah, they can pick locks. What they can't do is get past the new high security, bump-resistant electronic deadbolt Silvio had to install. Three guesses where **that** order came from." Mark's and Pat's eyes are wide. Silvio reports to Hector. Silvio would have made sure it worked. "Pedro is saying that Accounting is scared that the CO will follow through on her threat to move the entire department to Trenton, where 'leaks get plugged'."

Pat snorts then laughs. Mark smiles.

"I'm serious. Antonio tried to get some basic numbers, Miami numbers, and he was told to talk to his XO or Ryan about it. Miami men have been told to stop approaching the accounting staff with questions and the staff is following the orders. Anything to avoid losing their jobs or having to move to Jersey to keep them."

"I can't believe she has this much power," Mark mutters. Pat and I roll our eyes.

"Well, she does. Accept it and move on. The company is growing. She's hasn't made any mistakes."

"One quarter. She hasn't had enough time."

Yes she has. And she hasn't made any mistakes. Accept that, Mark, and leave her alone.

* * *

**Lester's POV**

It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough by far. I still want to draw blades, even seeing the absolutely brutal thrashing Bobby just dished out. My anger is still high. Tank is a silent statue. I know that pose. The first person to approach him before he's calm again will get a concussion. Hal's phone call took Tank from blinding fury to hostile, so it's a slow improvement. The men here should send the Trenton XO a gift.

I turn and look at the NYC men we have here in San Antonio. The men are silently furious. Our eyes meet and I can see that they were affected by what they saw. They each nod. They understood and they'll throw their support behind their XO when they return home. I nod. No other words needed.

The rest of the men are silent. The Trenton and Atlanta men are calm and cool. A few of the Trenton men have smirks on their faces, from Beautiful, no doubt. The rest are looking shocked. The recruits are stunned and scared. I smile coldly.

"Anyone else need a demonstration of why Bobby does not give mat time?"

Heads throughout the room shake. It was considered a curiosity that Bobby did not give mat time. Now the men know why.

"Fall out."

Everyone moves to get their day's assignment. I head to my office. I'm just settled in the chair when the phone rings. I glance. _Primo_.

"Yo."

"Uzbekistan. I'll make the arrangements." _Click_.

I laugh, which brings Tank to my door. He raises an eyebrow. "Uzbekistan". Tank laughs. Uzbekistan is a personal nightmare location for us. Escaping Uzbekistan took every bit of cunning Ranger and I possessed working in tandem.

Uzbekistan is a doubly landlocked country in central Asia composed of mostly mountains and deserts. It's also completely surrounded by the other 'Stans (Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan and Afghanistan). There are no rivers or lakes leading to any seas, so no easy escapes, and the average summer temperature is 104 degrees. Political situation? Hostile to Americans, at best.

Ranger isn't just being vindictive.

He's personally signing Liam's death certificate.


	9. I Guess You DID Mean It

**A/N: This chapter begins the Monday after "Come Talk to Me".**

**One last thank you going to DragonflyFriday, who also beta reads for me, drags me off ledges, remind my muse to get _back_ to work, and provides pithy (and amusing) commentary. THANK YOU!**

* * *

**Chapter 43.5 I Guess You Did Mean It**

**Lula's POV**

The envelope is sitting on Connie's desk when I walk in, and she's smiling to beat the band.

"Special delivery. Just for you."

I blink. Who in the hell would be sending me shit, especially to the bonds office? I take the envelope from her and open it.

A first class ticket from Newark to San Antonio. Leaving in one week.

Tank.

He meant it. He actually meant what he said.

I'm looking at the ticket, dumbfounded, when Connie speaks.

"You wanna know the value of that ticket?"

I nod.

"About $1500."

I'm stunned, and I'm not sure how to handle this. I sit down on the couch and the weasel comes out.

"I don't pay vacation so if you go, no pay."

Connie throws a pen at him and he retreats back to his office. She's searching for the bugs, and I'm still sitting in shock.

A good man kept his word. He's been calling me (I've been avoiding the calls) and he sent the plane ticket.

Connie sits next to me on the couch and looks at the ticket. "I'm jealous. I've never met a man willing to pop $1500 for a first class plane ticket. And it's a non-stop flight. I checked it out online. He could've paid 1/3 the price having you leave from JFK, but he popped for the best ticket for you. So, we need to hit Vickie's before you go?"

I nod. "Call Steph. Tell her I don't give a damn what she's got going on, if she gotta bring Hector that's fine, but her ass is leaving the building today."

Connie makes the call. Steph and Ram will be here in 10 minutes.

* * *

Steph whistles at the ticket. "Nice seat too. Lula, you don't look excited. Aren't you excited?"

"I ain't sure what to think."

Steph tries to raise an eyebrow, which is so funny I laugh. "Nope, you still don't have it down, White Girl. Keep trying."

"Damn," she mutters. "So, where are we headed?"

I shrug. I just needed to talk to her. I don't have a clue beyond that.

"You are going, right? I mean, this ticket is non-refundable. Tank's betting you'll come see him."

I think about telling her. It's the last little bit of my past that I've kept from her and Connie, and I know they'll understand. I'm not sure Tank ever did.

"I did this once before," I say, quietly. "I believed a man when he said he loved me, and I followed him from my home to where he was going and I ended up trickin'. This shit's déjà vu. I don't know if I trust it."

That's the beauty of talking with women. Steph and Connie immediately nod. They got it.

We pull up to Quaker Bridge Mall and head to Macy's. I need shoes to think this over. Steph pulls out her phone and does something, then smiles.

"Summery stuff. It's 100 degrees in the shade there. Sandals, shorts, capris, maybe some dresses. Lula, you get your shoes. Connie, you grab the tops. I'll find pants. 30 minutes we meet back down here. Let's go!"

And they're off, headed to their respective departments. I can see some pumps I like, but I think about what Steph just said. 100 degrees in the shade. Imma melt. I start picking up sandals. I'm here so often that Marion, the head of the department, starts pulling stuff for me based on what I pick up.

My phone rings. Tank. I debate whether or not to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Lula?" I can hear him moving away from Lester and Bobby in the background.

"Yeah. . . " I'm not sure what else to say. Sorry I've been ducking your calls? I miss you like crazy? I can't believe you kept your word?

"You, uh . . . you didn't happen to get a delivery today, did you?" He sounds nervous. Tank never sounds nervous.

"A delivery? No . . ." I let the silence stretch. "I got an envelope though."

I can hear the exhale. "You ain't right." I can hear his smile and his relief. I shake my head at a pair of sandals Marion brings over. They ugly. "So, I kept my word. I sent the plane ticket. You comin'?"

I'm thinking about it. Tank has never not kept his word. He called. He sent the plane tickets. He's not promisin' me marriage or nothing, just a visit. Just to see where he's from and what's he doing. He hasn't asked me to move.

And that's a lot of words. Is he in a bedroom?

"I'm shopping. Steph says it's 100 degrees in the shade. How are you managing the all-black outfit?"

"With lots of water and air-conditioning. We're thinking of modifying the outfit to dark grey. Steph's right. Baby, I know you love your Spandex, but leave that at home. Bring loose clothes, sandals, things that breathe. And bring something dressy. I told my momma about you and she's planning a Sunday dinner."

OK, now this is outside my experience. He wants me to meet his momma? Attend Sunday dinner?

"Tank, I don't know about that."

"Lula, baby, it's been three years. If I bring you anywhere near Louisiana and don't take you to see her, my momma will end my life."

"How much does she know about me?" I can't imagine yo' momma being happy you datin' a trick.

"My momma don't judge." So she knows. "You still ain't answered my question. You comin'?"

You want me to meet your momma. You kept your promises. You sent me an expensive ass ticket and you aren't asking me to move. This is just a visit. This is just a visit.

"I'll be there. See you in a week."

_Click_. My man. Still no concept of phone manners. And he's real nervous. That was a hell of a lot of words.

Ram and Steph return, Steph looking a bit nervous. "Look, I know you love your Spandex Lula, but it's not good in that kind of heat. I grabbed things that were appropriate and started a dressing room for you. Connie's put some tops in with my stuff."

Translation: You ain't getting into no 10s today missy. Slide into these 16s and 18s and let your cooch breathe.

I hug Steph. Even as busy as she is, she's still here with me to shop and prep. "He wants me to meet his Momma."

"Expect a proposal," says Ram. We turn and look at him. He shrugs. "You don't meet the Momma without a man being serious. He's ready to make it permanent."

I forgot he understands English. Shit. I miss Hector. Never thought I'd think _that_.

Both of Steph's eyebrows rise at that. "Wow." She looks as uncertain as I feel. "He texted me and said not to let you pay for a thing since you have to buy a whole new wardrobe." Steph grins. "So if he's paying, let's wear the credit cards out!"

I can get onboard with that.

He hasn't proposed yet. He hasn't proposed yet.

* * *

I have two suitcases for this trip. Well, three with the carry on. Having traveled so much lately, Steph came over to my apartment, Hal in tow, and helped me pack. She took Space Bags and vacuumed all the air out, which is the only way we got that many clothes into the suitcases. I put that away as a new neat trick to remember.

I'm at baggage claim looking for my bags when I feel someone slide up behind me. Lord have mercy he smells good, Polo Black cologne and cocoa butter. I hope it won't take long to get where we're going.

"Suitcases?"

"Two." Is that my voice? I sound like I'm outta air.

"That's all?" He sounds amused.

"I know how to pack. We got everything into them two suitcases."

I feel a chuckle. "I can't wait to see how overstuffed these suitcases are. I saw the Vickie's bill. I was hoping one suitcase was just from her."

Don't worry. She got her own Space Bag. The baggage finally starts rolling and I see my raspberry colored bags come out. I point and Tank moves to grab them. I can finally see what he's wearing and I'm surprised. Tank has on a forest green Henley and blue jeans. No black anywhere. Wow. Steph talked me into wearing a wrap dress. I feel dowdy, but comfortable. This is a Mary Lou/Connie kinda outfit. No personality in this, but Steph said I'd be more comfortable in the airport and in Texas in this.

Tank smiles at the dress. "Classy. Date night outfit. Got another one?"

I nod. OK, maybe I'll give Steph a little more credit for this one. I had the expensive weave put in, styled into big curls, so I wouldn't have to do hair on this trip. I look, well, classy.

We walk outside, where I see a RangeMan in grey standing next to Tank's Escalade. He nods, walks to the Suburban behind it, and drives off. Tank opens my door (I'm still not used to it), stashes my suitcases in his trunk, and off we go.

"I got a text while I was waiting that I need to come in and sign some paperwork, so I need to make a stop at the office. After that, I'm offline for a week. Just you and me for a week, Lula."

My cooch sits up. Yes. We've missed Sgt. Mandingo and he needs to come put in serious work.

The trip to RangeMan San Antonio takes about 30 minutes. We don't talk; Tank never talks while driving and I'm too busy looking around. Steph told me to take a notepad to write things down, things I want to go back and see cuz I'd never remember if I relied on my memory. She's right; I see all kinds of places I want Tank to take me back to.

We finally arrive at the office and I look up. It's not like Trenton. This place is classy, with lots of windows and marble. The air conditioning is kicking because there's a 20 degree difference between the outside and inside. We walk in and the guy at the desk comes to attention. Tank nods and he relaxes, but he's looking at me as if he's trying to memorize me. We hit the elevators (Thank God. I'm wearing sandals but they have a 4" heel) and head to the 5th floor.

It's silent on the 5th floor. Every man comes to attention and I'm trying to look around at everything. I'm so caught up in trying to see that Tank takes my hand and hurries me up a bit. I see one or two familiar faces and they nod at me. OK, so those are guys from Trenton. Before we reach Tank's office, I feel myself being grabbed from behind and twirled.

"Lula!" Lester. He looks happy to see me. He ain't ever looked this happy to see me before.

"Hey Lester!" I get a big bear hug and I feel another set of arms tugging him.

"Move out the way, dipstick. My turn. Hey Lula!" Bobby actually picks me up and twirls me.

"OK, what's with the bear hugs? You guys didn't hug me all the time in Trenton." I'm suspicious.

They both start laughing, and I remember what Steph said about RangeMan only hiring sexy people. Hey, a standard starts at the top.

"True, but we've been stuck here in this hot ass heat for months with no visitors from home. You're the first person we've seen from back east and believe me, you're a welcome sight," Bobby says.

"Really?"

Lester grins. "Well, that and we know you had to leave your gun at home." He and Bobby start laughing and I hear a chuckle behind me. Tank is biting his lip trying not to smile.

"Tank, baby, can I borrow your stun gun?" All three immediately sober up and start moving away. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Anyway," Lester says, "We've just dropped about 30 minutes worth of urgent paperwork on Tank's desk," he raises an eyebrow to Tank, who frowns, "so we thought we'd give you the tour of RangeMan San Antonio."

"All floors," Tank says. The guys look him, surprised. Tank doesn't blink.

"OK, then. Well, you ready?" Bobby asks.

I nod. We take the elevator back down to the basement and the guys give me the tour. We finish on 8, where Tank is waiting. The guys do their handshake and leave.

"Hold your questions until we're inside." I nod and Tank fobs us in. The room is huge and blank but I can see that it's supposed to be an apartment. A really nice apartment but everything has been stripped to the studs to rebuild from the ground up.

"Months ago I told you that I wasn't sure if I would ever come back east," Tank says quietly. I'm still looking around. "The more time I spend here the more certain I am of it. I might come for visits, but this is home for me."

I can feel the lump in my throat. I knew he wasn't comin' back to Jersey.

"When we started the company, the plan was to open branches in San Antonio, Memphis and Detroit. That's the last of the master plan and that's what we're executing now. Each one of us, me, Ranger, Bobby, and Lester, we were going to oversee the company from different branches. San Antonio, Memphis, and Detroit were going to be mine."

I'm listening to this and trying to understand where he's going. Tank goes to the small refrigerator and pulls some water.

"This is going to be my San Antonio apartment. I haven't started on it for a few reasons, but the biggest was that every time I tried to make a decision, I wondered what you might think. If you would like the tile or the flooring or the paint scheme. Makes the decorator crazy, but I can't make a decision on any of it."

Tank moves in front of me and tilts my head up. "Lula Bear, I'm asking you what you want. If you want me. If you want to share my life. If you want to move here with me. If that takes marriage, I'm OK with that. If you don't want that, fine, but I want you. It's been hell being halfway across the country without you, alone with Tweedledum and Tweedledee and a bunch of grown ass children."

I laugh at that and I see Tank smile.

"I want you to see where I'm from, Louisiana and Texas, so you know what you're getting. But this is it. I want to know if you want to make a life with me. If you don't want to move here, I'll work it out. I'll take Trenton and send Lester here. I'll do what it takes. But I want you to think about it while you're here."

Ram was right. I got a proposal. Hell, I'm barely off the plane and he hit me with it. I nod. I wanna see what his decorator has in mind and now that I'm thinking about it, I might get the answer to a question that's really been bothering me.

"Tank?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's allowed up here?"

I can see his confusion. "Well, since this is mine, me, you, Lester, Bobby, Ranger, Hector, and Steph. Oh, and whatever housekeeper I choose to hire. Why?"

Humph. That's what I thought. "So, if Steph is allowed up here, how come I'm not allowed into Ranger's apartment where she's living?"

I can see this is uncomfortable for Tank. "These apartments are considered the sanctuary of the man in charge of that branch. Access is extremely limited. The people I just named are the leadership of the company and a housekeeper. That's it. In the case of Ranger's apartment, Steph's always been allowed up there because it's Ranger's desire. If Steph wasn't running the company right now, she wouldn't be allowed up here, and if she ever chooses The Cop over Ranger, she won't be allowed back on 7 in Trenton unless it's an emergency."

Shit. I wonder if Steph knows that, but I get it now. Company leadership and the man's girlfriend only. No one else. Now I see why that was such an uncomfortable subject for Steph. I hug Tank around his waist and smile. "Humph. Well I guess that makes sense but still . . . thank you. That explained everything." I see Tank raise an eyebrow. "Steph would never explain why she wouldn't let us upstairs. She just blushed and changed the subject, and if that explanation hadda come from Steph I woulda taken it personal."

Tank nods. "I know. I kept getting reports you were taking it personally, but you would never answer your phone so I could explain it to you." I hear the disappointment in his voice and wince. Sorry.

We stand there in the middle of the gutted apartment until I hear my stomach growl. Tank smiles.

"I'm offline now. Let's get some dinner."

* * *

Dinner was great, and as we traveled to Tank's current apartment, I asked about the cats. Bobby has them as long as I'm here, and Tank had the entire apartment fumigated and professionally cleaned. I tell him I had the allergy shot and he smiles.

We spend the rest of the evening in bed. The moment Tank slides inside me, I realize exactly how much I missed this man. We get up for the occasional shower and dinner but otherwise we're naked 'till the sun comes up.

I decide I wouldn't mind another day like that so, after washing the sheets, we spend the next day in bed too. I'm admiring the gorgeous chocolate skin and hard muscles the next afternoon when the phone rings. Tank reaches out a hand to answer.

"Hello?" Ummm … all sleep sexy and deep. I'm still running fingers over his back when he sits straight up and looks panicked. "Momma? Where are you? Where?" He's in panic mode now. He leaps from the bed and motions for me to hit the bathroom and take a shower. "Yes, Momma, I understand, but you coulda given me some warning." I'm in the bathroom brushing my teeth when I hear my man's voice reach a different pitch. "You got Antoine with you? Momma, you know me an' Antoine don't get along and if he tries to hit on Lula, he'll be a grease stain in my carpet."

I laugh. I'm glad I hung up all my clothes. I pull a tropical colored outfit and some shoes. Tank's pulled on his sweats but nothing else. I slide my hand into his pants and find my favorite soldier. I'm stroking him while Tank looks both thrilled and terrified.

"Momma, I gotta go. Look if you're gonna be here in 5 minutes I'll be here, but I'm putting in an official complaint that this ain't fair." He's hitting a different pitch by the time he hangs up and Sgt. Mandingo is ready to fall out.

"You ain't right. You got me hot with my momma on the phone!" Tank's ready to blow, so I smile.

"Take care of it in the shower so you loosen up and relax. I'll change the sheets and Febreze the bedroom. You got anything to serve yo momma 'round here?"

He shakes his head and hits the shower. I strip the bed and throw the sheets in the washing machine. When I head back to the bedroom, I smell that Tank's Febrezed in there, so I head back to the kitchen and pour some lemonade in a glass. I'm pulling stuff to make some ham sandwiches when the doorbell rings.

Now I'm nervous. I was too busy to be nervous before, but Tank's momma is here. My man's momma is here and she knows I was a trick and she may have brought more family with her. She's gonna know I'm not good enough for her son. I can feel Tank slide up behind me.

"It'll be OK. I want you and my momma to get along, but at the end of the day Lula, I love you." I nod, too scared to do anything else.

Tank opens the door and is immediately tackled in a bear hug by a woman half his size. Another man who looks like Tank at 100 pounds slides in and looks at me. I ain't seen them kinda looks since I was a 'ho. He's followed by three other women and two little kids, who immediately start running amuck. Tank turns around.

"Jayson! Quintavious! Git yo' asses back in this living room right now! If I gotta come find you, you ain't 'gon be able to sit down for a week!" The boys both run back in the living room and sit down, clearly afraid.

"Sorry Uncle Pierre." I see Tank cringe and I smile. He truly hates that name.

I can finally see his momma and she's smiling at me. Tank got a lot of his looks from her. Smooth black skin, gorgeous smile with perfect teeth. A big-boned woman and she's got a nice dye job. Clairol Nice 'n Easy 110, Natural Light Auburn. One of my favorite colors.

She comes toward me, arms outstretched. "You must be Tallulah." I cringe. I **hate** my name. She laughs. "Oh Lord, another one who hates they name. Well, honey, what nickname you go by? Is it Lula?" I nod. "Well, that makes more sense than Tank." The way his mother says 'Tank', like she's spitting it out, makes me laugh. "Well honey, I'm Mrs. Carol Jean LaPierre and you can call me Mrs. Carol Jean. Baby, I'm happy to finally meet the woman Tank talks about." Tank cringes behind his momma and I laugh.

We start moving toward the kitchen and Mrs. Carol Jean is still talking a mile a minute. "Now mind you, when I say talks, what I mean is you get a mention about twice a month, which is damn near gushing on you. I think Ranger and the rest of his boys get a mention once a month." Tank is blushing, well, as much as Tank might blush.

I've been parked on the stool, Tank standing and leaning over behind me, while his momma takes over production of the sandwiches and pours glasses of lemonade. I move to help and she points me right back to the stool. "This here is Wilma," a nod "Thelma," another nod "and Chenae. They Pierre's sisters and this here is his brother, Antoine. And you've met Jayson and Quintavious. They Antoine's."

His sisters haven't said much to me. They're just looking at me coolly and I'm wondering if I got my clothes on right. "Nice to meet you ladies." I turn toward Antoine. "And you Antoine." I turn to the kids."How old are you guys?"

"I'm six," says one.

"I'm eight," says the other.

"So Lula," Thelma says coolly, "tell us about yo' self. Whatchu do? Where you from? How'd you end up meeting Tank? He only meets criminals in his job."

Oh you bitch. I see where you're going. I can feel Tank's displeasure behind me, and I put my hands on top of his. "I'm a file clerk at a bonds office. I'm originally from Philly and moved to Jersey in my twenties. I met Tank through mutual friends. My best friend is friends with his best friend."

Mrs. Carol Jean smiles and places a nice thick sandwich in front of me. "I hear you're a bounty hunter too. That sounds exciting! I watch Dog on TV," I can feel Tank groan, "but I still can't believe that's what Tank does. Tell me, is it dangerous?"

"Well, yes and no. Me and Steph, that's my best friend, we go after the low bonds, and they're more tricky than anything. Me and her, we got a theory: the lower the bond, the trickier the skip. They truly will do anything to avoid goin' back to jail." I start telling Mrs. Carol Jean about some of me and Steph's adventures and she laughs while Tank verifies that they're all true.

Tank's sisters and brother look disappointed. What? Did you bitches think I was gon' hand you my trickin days on a silver platter? Shit, I tried to put all that shit behind me. Right now, I'm tryin' to impress yo' momma so she think I'm good enough for her son. You the least of my problems.

This is the pattern for the entire afternoon until finally Chenae says, "Look, we heard you wuz a 'ho. Is that true or not, cuz if so, you need to get yo crabby ass away from my brother. We don't need you passing him no die-slow."

That is, without a doubt, the nastiest thing anyone has ever said to me. Tank is furious and so is his momma.

"Chenae, how dare you! This ain't yo house to be comin in and saying things like that. This Pierre's house and his woman, and if he's chosen her that's all we need to know. I'm ashamed of you." Mrs. Carol Jean is livid, and Tank's ready to toss his sisters out but I stroke his arm until he calms down. I turn and look Chenae in the eye.

"I don't know your background, but since you and yo' sisters been prying all afternoon, here's mine. I finished high school, no further. I worked a lot of jobs in my life. When I moved to Jersey I became an independent operator. I had one good to sell and I sold it until I was too hurt to sell it anymore. I changed my life and I'm in school now. I work a 9 to 5 and I'm a bounty hunter on the side. Your brother knew all this from the very start cuz he met me right after I got hurt. Does that answer your questions? Cuz if not, I don't give a damn. Tank knows everything he needs to know and he still wants me in his life. I'm not a stupid woman, never been, so if he wants me by his side then, dammit, that's where I'm gon' be."

Tank tightens his grip on my arms and gives his sister the coldest, nastiest look I've ever seen. That's the look that makes skips come along quietly and Chenae looks a bit frightened.

"I didn't expect y'all to come in here and insult my woman like you have. Only reason I've allowed your rudeness is cuz I know Lula. I know she wants to handle things like that herself. But this is the last time we ever discuss this. Whether in my house or yours, you will never open your mouths and disrespect my woman again. Otherwise I cut you off. Understood?"

Chenae is completely pale. "You'd stop paying my tuition?"

"In a heartbeat," Tank replies.

"You paid Wilma and Thelma's tuition!"

"Which is why I won't be paying any car notes, any rent checks, and no day care bills. I've supported y'all because you my family, but if me and Lula become permanent, she's my family. Y'all better start preparing for the day that I cut all of you off. You too, Antoine. Get a fucking job and pay your own damn child support." He turns to his mother. "You know you're excluded from that Momma."

"Honey chile, I don't spend the money you give me now. It's just sitting in that bank account, waiting for you to decide what you wanna do with it." Tank looks surprised and grateful.

It's completely quiet in the living room. Mrs. Carol Jean is smiling to beat the band. I'm not sure how to restart any conversation here and luckily I don't have to.

"So, when you and Pierre gon' come to church with us? If you come Sunday, it's 1st Sunday," Tank groans, "and we got a guest preacher comin'. He gon' raise the roof on the church and it should be good. Pierre, you need to come back to church, get sanctified again, and bring Lula with you. Be nice for her to start looking at churches, you know, for special events." His momma winks and I can feel Tank counting to 10. I'm wondering what my face looks like.

Nervous as a whore in church on Sunday is not just a sayin'.


	10. The Housekeepers' War, Part II

**The Housekeepers' War, Part II—Trenton**

**Maria's POV**

The past three weeks in Trenton have been an eye opener. A few days after Stephanie returned from NYC, I went to talk to her, to try to get to know her. I was surprised by her conversation.

I poked my head into the 'Lion's Den'. The Trenton boys' nickname for Stephanie's office is amusing. "Stephanie?"

She looked up and smiled. "Steph, please. Maria, I want you to know that you're already being considered a hero by the men." She motioned for me to come in.

"Why is that?" I stepped in and took a seat. I was genuinely curious.

She laughed. "You order Hector around like a drill sergeant. The men are impressed. Normally, once Hector glares at someone, they find something else to do." She smiled. "I'm impressed. I've finally gotten a useful tip in trying to manage my partner. I can't cry all the time around him. I needed something else in my arsenal."

I laughed. "Oh, Stephanie, I deal with much worse in Miami. Those men," I blew out a breath, "if you aren't strong enough to make orders and force them to stay in bed, they will act just as badly as Hector."

Honestly, I enjoy ordering this fearsome man around because he didn't strike back with a thousand orders. He wasn't constantly asking me to fetch him water or fluff his pillow or find the remote. No, Hector wanted to be left alone so he could pretend he wasn't hurt, which would aggravate his injury. I enjoyed ordering Hector around because I could see he wasn't used to being mothered. His reputation stopped anyone who might try and the rest would stop at his glares.

Too bad he never met my husband. Toward the end, as the cancer sapped his strength, Armand was just as bad as Hector, fearing that I might see him as less than a man. I learned how to ignore that behavior in favor of caring for him. I still miss him so much each and every day.

She nodded, still smiling. "Well, how are you enjoying your time here so far? No one is overworking you, right? Asking you to do things outside your customary duties?"

I blinked. I was surprised she asked. "No. No, on the contrary, I'm doing much less than what I do in Miami. I enjoy working with the boys here. I love the grocery procedures."

"Yes, Ella told me about those. She thought it was amusing that grocery procedures were the only shopping the men here are eager to do. They'll do the other stuff but they like grocery shopping. They like to try to guess her menu, and they get excited when they see her pick up baking goods."

I laughed. "I know. Remember the cake?"

* * *

_The day after Stephanie's return from NYC, I make a healthy applesauce cake and place it in the break room. I wait on the response, but thirty minutes later, it's still there. I'm confused._

"_Binkie?"_

"_Yes, Maria?"_

"_No one has touched the cake."_

_I see him glance at the cake and smile. "We value our fingers. It will be gone soon enough. The CO is on a conference call and hasn't spotted it yet. Once she takes a hunk, it will be gone in minutes."_

_I wait. Sure enough, Stephanie walks into the break room minutes later and finds the cake. I watch her look around and spot me. There's a look of uncertainty in her eyes._

"_It's healthy. You should enjoy it," I tell her. I haven't had much interaction with Stephanie so far, so I'm glad to see Ram and Binkie are correct. Stephanie takes a massive hunk of cake, slices it into three slices, and sticks two wrapped slices into the pockets of her cargoes. She places the last slice on a napkin and adopts an innocent face._

"_I wonder what happened to the rest of that cake," she grins. It's so adorable I laugh. Her pockets are bulging with contraband cake. I pour her a glass of milk and watch her moan. This is what I hoped for! She loves it._

"_Did you get a piece?"_

_I shake my head. "I'll grab a piece once the men have each gotten a slice."_

_Stephanie frowns. "Get your slice now. The men will assume that you've had a slice and it's free reign on the cake when they walk in. That's why I grabbed a slice for Hector. If they eat that entire cake under the assumption that you've already had a slice, then they'll be upset with themselves."_

_Within seconds, RangeMen pour into the break room. I see Binkie look over at us._

"_Since the CO isn't supposed to have cake," each man smiles, "I'll assume you've had a massive slice, right Maria?"_

_I shake my head. "I was going to wait for you guys to get a slice then take mine."_

_Vince shakes his head. "Doesn't work like that here, Maria. Make sure you serve yourself and Steph before you put things out for us. We assume that you've taken care of management and we're free to have the rest." While Vince is giving me that explanation, Binkie brings me a slice of cake._

_Steph grins and leans over. "Told you. Anything left for the men is open season."_

_I nod and watch as the men begin slicing up the cake. I sit at the table with Stephanie, eating my slice, and we both try not to laugh. It's like a plague of locusts descending. I set out the other two cakes and watch them disappear._

_I timed it. Twelve minutes. I turn to Stephanie. "How did they know?"_

_She grins. "They heard the moans. It's like Pavlov's dogs. They know better than to touch cake before I get to it. I was on a conference call, but I smelled it the moment you pulled it out the oven. An hour ago, right?"_

_I nod, amused, and file this information away. RangeMen here ensure that the ladies are cared for first. Change in behavior from what I'm used to. Also, the CO loves dessert. I need to ensure it's healthy so she'll eat it._

_I have the rest of the day off. I have no idea what to do, but I decide to make copies of Ella's healthy meals. The men have been clearing their plates of those meals, so clearly they're preferred here._

It was a great chat and I really like Stephanie. She's a sweetheart and very hard working. She's also been very protective of her partner lately, which is sweet. She spent the week in the bed next to Hector, working on her duties and napping. Once, when Hector thought no one was looking, I saw him twist her curls around his finger and smile. He watched the video of her in the gun range repeatedly and when she flipped Woody, he grinned big. Of course, the moment he caught me watching him, he glared and pretended to be hard at work, talking to the Atlanta boys about some project and "speaking" in Spanish to people. Somehow, I get the idea that threats are a normal part of his vocabulary, and I teased Ram that Hector only appeared to be scarier than his reputation.

Ram looked at me. "Hector is known as a man of his word. He doesn't make threats. He issues promises." Ram's facial expression said I shouldn't be fooled.

I blinked. OK. Message received. I see why the Miami boys are terrified of him.

* * *

I know now why Ella is considered a goddess among housekeepers. It's because the men here treat her like she's special and important. They found out that my birthday fell during the visit, and I walked into my kitchen that morning to find masses of flowers, everything from roses to tulips, and a birthday card in the kitchen. I found the good Godiva on a table and a new Wüsthof Chef's knife on the countertop.

The knife made me cry.

Every year of our marriage, my husband purchased one Wüsthof knife. They're so expensive that I knew he saved up for that purchase. At the time of his death, I nearly had the entire set, but my Chef's knife, the first one he ever purchased, was getting dull. Stephanie walked into the kitchen just as I was pulling myself together. She handed me a hankie and rubbed my back.

I smiled at her. "My husband used to buy me another knife every year on my birthday during our marriage. This is the first time in five years I've gotten a new knife."

She nodded slowly and smiled. I could see the tears forming in her eyes. "Hector had a hard time deciding between that and the sharpener. I think you can expect to receive the sharpener by the end of the day." She swallowed hard and smiled. I handed her the hankie so she could wipe her eyes.

"Why?"

She pointed at the cameras. "Your tears concerned them. They thought you might be a bit beyond hankies and hugs."

I looked at Stephanie, looked at the cameras, and laughed.

* * *

I leave for Atlanta next week. Rose will take my place in Miami, and the Miami men are not looking forward to the fact that I'm not returning immediately. Pedro let it slip that I might be reassigned to San Antonio. The calls are getting more pleading and angry now, but I'm in a different place.

This time in Trenton has shown me that I'm not being treated well. I thought my men in Miami loved me, worshipped me, and would do anything for me. I see now that I was very wrong. Those men love me because I do whatever they want. You want a special meal? OK. You don't like oatmeal or granola? Here's a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. When do you need these six loads of laundry back?

The men in Trenton adore me. They love their Ella, but I'm considered a good alternative. I cook very well, their uniforms are spotless, the building smells fresh and clean, and each one was made to feel very special. They consider it their duty to ensure that I'm not overwhelmed and overburdened, and if they need me to do anything special for them, they **ask **if I have the time to assist them. They don't take it for granted. Eddie helped me understand why that attitude prevailed here.

"When I first started here, I told Ranger that having a housekeeper was a perk of working for RangeMan that I never expected."

"Why is that?" I asked, smiling. I'm going to miss Eddie so much.

He shuffled for a moment then looked at me. "I was a foster kid for a few years," he said quietly. "In the system, you learn not to get attached to your caregivers. They might be replaced at any moment. Working here was the first time I'd had a 'mommy' since I was six. Ella made me feel special and cared for, and I'd do anything for her."

He sighed and handed me his hankie. I was crying buckets. "Don't cry. It is what it is. I'm telling you so that you understand the feelings of the men in this building. A lot of us had parents who didn't give a damn, which is why so many of us joined gangs or enlisted in the military the moment we were legal. Having Ella here was a treat that no man in this building takes for granted. Ella is the house 'Mom' and the CO is our pesky but much loved little sister."

I laugh. That really does sum up the way the Trenton men treat both myself and Stephanie. Eddie takes my hands and sits me on the couch. I watch him fish a paper from his pocket. "Have you ever really read your contract, Maria?"

I shake my head. "No, not really. I understood the basic requirements and the salary and living conditions were acceptable so I signed. My husband had just died and I just needed something new and fresh to do."

Eddie pats my hands. "That explains a lot," he says. "Well, you should reread your contract. I got this from Vince, who got it from Hal." He passes me the blank copy and grins. "Knowledge is power.

* * *

**Ella's POV**

The reeducation of the Miami men is going very well. Maria informs me that they call her almost nightly to beg her to come home. Last week she stopped answering the calls. She is now answering their calls once a week. No more.

I'm proud. The woman is finding her backbone.

I call Vince to ask him about her time there. I asked him to help me with this little project because I knew my 'baby' would be happy to give me the info I need. Tonight's discussion is very interesting.

"I want to kill them."

Harsh words from Vince, and Luis and I are both surprised. Luis asks, "Who do you want to kill and why?"

"I would like to toss each of the Miami men into the Atlantic with cement shoes. Those assholes took advantage of a grieving widow."

Luis and I are stunned. My month with the Miami men has shown me that they are inconsiderate, arrogant, and condescending. Stephanie will tear them to shreds when she gets here if they aren't softened up first. I'm not sure who I want to be angriest with. Armando, for not getting control of this problem? Lester and Carlito, for knowing, not doing anything, but allowing Stephanie the hard work of cleaning it up? Or Maria, for aiding and abetting them, further cementing their attitudes and actions?

I'd like to toss them all into the Atlantic, but if these men took advantage of a grieving widow then I'm going to be slightly vindictive next week.

I listen in horror as Vince tells us everything he and Eddie managed to get out of Maria. How the Miami men manipulated a grieving widow into becoming an overworked maid in this building. How they beat her self-confidence down so far that she sees nothing wrong with their behavior. How the Trenton men have spent the past month putting her on a pedestal and making her feel good about herself. How **my** men have demonstrated to her how she should be treated.

I smile.

"You should see it, Ella! Maria's behaving more like you now, which is a relief because we weren't sure what to do at first. I mean, knowing that she would slave over a meal, set it out, and not keep a plate back for herself before serving us made us all nervous. We had to start reminding ourselves to ask her if she had taken care of herself first before serving us. We didn't want to eat everything away from her. And I think she's enjoying not cooking those heavy meals anymore, which is a relief because my stomach couldn't take it."

Luis laughs quietly. Hal called during the first week and told us about Maria's first three days in Trenton. All the men had the runs. None of them were used to that much butter and grease. "Just when we get the meals we've always wanted, none of us can eat them in comfort," Hal said. I could hear his chuckles. "Every man here found himself praying for roughage and buying softer toilet paper. We were grateful Ram addressed it with her. I wasn't sure how."

Luis and I had laughed ourselves silly after that call, imagining the Trenton men running for bathrooms and fighting for Angel Soft. A greasy meal, like ribs or pizza, is an occasional treat. They were overdosing on too much of a good thing and their systems couldn't handle it. I watch as my husband tries, and fails, to contain his laughter remembering Hal's comments.

"Anyway, Eddie told her tonight to reread her contract. You know, she never read it after she signed so I'm sure it will be an eye opener. Oh, and Hector said to thank you for the hint about her knives. She cried so much we had to send Steph after her. Apparently, her husband would buy one for her every year on her birthday and those assholes in Miami didn't keep up the tradition. It was the first time in years she'd gotten a new knife."

Luis looks at me and shakes his head. His reddening face tells me that if Vince chooses to toss the Miami men into the Atlantic, he'd happily assist.

I'm not going to bother. I'm going to be mean.

* * *

The Miami men have made it clear that they can't wait for me to leave. I'm not cooking like Maria does. They get breakfast, lunch, a light dinner, and snacks. I'm not cooking banquet meals. I don't do their laundry. I don't press suits for anyone except Core Team here.

I'm not the maid.

This week I'm going completely vegan. Every meal. Every snack. I'm not even attempting to hide the menu's roots. Enjoy!

I think my words got to Armando, because when the men attempted to complain to him today, he shut it down. Well, he tried to. I now see his problem and I may owe him a small apology. He tries. His men are fools.

"Armando, I'm submitting a request to present this petition to the Leadership Core on behalf of the Miami RangeMen, for the removal of Ella Guzman from our building." Antonio, the head of bodyguard services and the worst sexist in the building, stares at me coolly. The management of RMMiami is all gathered in the conference room for the daily staff meeting and Armando looks confused. I'm getting cold looks from the men seated around the table. I get the feeling they aren't appreciating 'vegan' week. Hehe.

"Her meals are unacceptable and don't come anywhere near the standards that Maria has set. She's also been rude, unfriendly, and unhelpful since she arrived, and we'd also like to petition the Leadership Core for a reassignment of the Head Housekeeper duty to Maria. Since Maria is the housekeeper for the home office that should be her duty."

I turn toward Armando, who is turning red at an impressive rate. Finally he calms and looks at Antonio. "Request denied. Next item of business—"

"Wait a minute! You don't get to just deny our request! I'm speaking on behalf of all the men, not just myself," Antonio yells.

Armando waits until he calms. "It's inappropriate to submit that petition to the Leadership Core. Mrs. Guzman is overseen by the CO. Submit that to Ms. Plum."

"Ms. Plum will ignore it."

"And you know this because?"

Every man at the table knows why the CO will ignore it, just as I do. Stephanie will ignore it because a) she knows me, b) this is ridiculous and c) the Leadership Core designated me Head Housekeeper. I really want to smile here but I can't.

Armando sighs. "If you really want to take that bullshit petition anywhere, Antonio, you need to follow chain of command. Elevate that to Ms. Plum for a decision. However," he stares at all the men, "since you've brought it up, let me address it now and save you the trouble. You can elevate that to Ms. Plum for a decision and allow her to whack you over the head with it. You're right that she will ignore it, especially if you don't have any concrete facts to back up your claims. She isn't going to demote the housekeeper she knows best just because she isn't making three-course meals for you."

Armando sits back and rubs his temples. This is going to be a long staff meeting. "Quite frankly, Mrs. Guzman is well inside the RangeMan dietary restrictions, which I know that she knows back and forth because she was the one who worked with Lt. Brown to create them. Am I correct, Mrs. Guzman?"

I nod, looking at Antonio a bit smugly. He looks furious.

"And as she created them, you aren't going to win the diet argument. Plus, she's already stated that the standard that she's setting will be the one Maria will have to follow when she returns, so I suggest you get accustomed to the menu. I'll address the Head Housekeeper role next. Am I correct in assuming that it was the Leadership Core who designated you as the Head Housekeeper, Mrs. Guzman?"

Again, I nod.

"So that's a lost battle. If you really want to piss off Leadership Core, take that one to them, especially as Mrs. Guzman is related to both Ranger and Lester, is that not correct?"

I nod and smile. Now every man around the table is looking at his fingers. Armando is pointing out to them that they have no grounds for their actions. I've learned in the past month that Armando isn't so much a snake in the grass as he is overrun. Armando is a man who attempts to reason, logically, with the men he commands and that's the problem. He can't command them. Well, he _can_ command them, but they want to know _why_. He's more of a consensus manager and that doesn't work in this office. I can see now why they straighten up when Carlito is here. Carlito gives orders and that's that. They don't dare question him and, based on what I hear about Diego, that's exactly how they treat Diego. Armando explains and reasons, as he's doing now, but the men don't respect that. They will go full throttle into something and get smacked because they don't listen to reason.

It's a shame. A manager anyone else would respect isn't respected here.

"Finally, I haven't seen any evidence that Mrs. Guzman is rude, unfriendly or unhelpful."

"Really? Have you been walking around with your eyes closed, _hermano_? The woman barely speaks, doesn't do laundry, doesn't bring anyone drinks, doesn't—"

"My eyesight is just fine." Armando's voice is dripping icicles, and Luis squeezes my hands. Everyone else looks shocked. "The _woman_, as **you** have so rudely just referred to her, is not a maid. She is a housekeeper. She's not required to do your laundry. She's not required to bring you drinks at your desk and, considering SOPs state that all drinks at desks must be in closed lid containers, I don't see how it would be appropriate anyway. Mrs. Guzman is not your mother or your girlfriend. Technically, she and Mr. Guzman are here for some R&R and are pitching in to help while they are here for the month, as payment for staying in the apartment here. They really aren't required to help as much as they have, so you should consider Mrs. Guzman's services a boon."

The room is silent. Finally, Antonio speaks. "As I'm a representative of the men's concerns, I'd still like to kick this up the chain of command."

_Sigh._ And now to get smacked.

Armando shakes his head. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He dials Stephanie's number.

"CO?"

"Hi, Armando. Need something?"

"Antonio has a petition that needs an immediate decision."

Antonio addresses the men's concerns to Stephanie. We await her verdict.

"Armando?"

"Yes?"

"Is he serious?"

Luis chuckles. Every man looks at him, frowning.

"Yes."

"Request denied. Tell him to never bother me again with something so ridiculous." _Click_.

**Smack.** I'm going to have fun teasing Stephanie for picking up RangeMan phone manners.

Antonio smiles. "Well, as the CO has denied the request, I'd like to have a review of the CO's decision by the men in the Leadership Core immediately."

Oh, I see. He expected Stephanie to deny the request, and he expects that Tank, Bobby and Lester will give it some consideration, since they're men. He'll accept the decision from men, but not a woman. This will definitely be an eye-opener.

Armando calls Tank.

"Sir."

"Armando."

"The men have a petition they would like to present."

"Was it submitted to the CO?"

"Yes, sir."

"She give a definitive ruling on it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Request denied. CO's decision stands." _Click_.

**SMACK.**

I'm biting my lip trying not to laugh. Luis has no restraint. He's chuckling. Armando gazes at Antonio, who is red and angry. "Satisfied?"

"No. Please try again."

Armando calls Tank.

"Sir."

"Armando."

"The men have a petition they would like to present."

"I just gave you a ruling."

"Sir, they want to be heard."

"They have been heard. By the CO. Why do they want this petition heard so badly?"

"It concerns Mrs. Guzman."

Silence on the line. Finally, I hear Bobby's voice. "OK, you have the Leadership Core here. Present."

Antonio details the men's concerns again. Again there's silence on the line.

"Please tell me that you did not pull us out of a meeting with the San Antonio RangeMen to present us some bullshit," Lester says, furious. "Armando, please tell me that's not what's going on here."

Antonio finally realizes the extent of his mistake. "Sir, this petition has been signed by all the RangeMen here."

"So in other words, you men would like my aunt to serve as your maid and dogsbody for a month. Is that what I'm being told? That you men want a slave?"

Silence.

"Alright, here's what I'm going to do. First, Antonio, you and I are on the mats for an hour the next time I'm in Miami. You should've known this was a bullshit petition and stopped it before it even got up to the CO. I can't believe you wasted Steph's time with that! Second, Armando, tell Ella to go straight from the standard contract, no addendums. Finally, I'll call Ella tonight and let her know that Maria will be reassigned to San Antonio the **moment** this branch is up and running."

Every man around the table is horrified. This is not what they wanted, but Lester isn't done.

"Housekeepers are a **privilege** of RangeMan employment, not a right. Ella retains her position and the right to move housekeepers around as she pleases, but I think in this case, we'll help her from on high. When Miami learns to appreciate having a housekeeper around, we'll consider rehiring one." _**Click**_.

**SMACK!**

**Smacks: 3. Reason: 0.** This is Armando's life. Poor man.

The silence around the table is absolute. Armando looks at Antonio in disgust. "Congratulations. Not only did you **not** get what you wanted, but you lost us **our** housekeeper. Thanks." He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Next order of business."

* * *

Lester called me later that night, and I informed him that I was in the room during that call.

"Ella, please tell us they really didn't disrespect you to your face like that." Lester's voice was pleading, as if he really wanted to believe that Miami couldn't be that bad.

"Lester, you and the boys should sit and let us tell you what's been going on here."

Over the next hour, Luis and I detailed everything that had happened in our three week stay in Miami. Ranger's initial call to set the entire thing in motion. The rude greetings at the beginning. The attempts at manipulation. The constant complaints about my cooking, although I did admit I'd served a mostly vegetarian menu all month. The calls at 2AM and 3AM when a RangeMan might have a stomachache or was too hung over to get aspirin or medication. The lax standards with medical records, which infuriated Bobby. We told them everything we'd seen and heard and at the end, the boys were shocked speechless.

"Like everyone in this company, I don't know what Stephanie's standards are during her reviews," Luis stated, "but a simple 'Surprise!' inspection of this office will prove that they aren't prepared. You could pull a 'Surprise!' inspection in Trenton any day of the week and the boys there would pass. Here, they wouldn't. Bobby, I don't think a surprise medical review would be amiss here."

"Do you think they're that bad, Luis?" Bobby asked quietly.

"Let's just say that the vegetarian menu Ella has been serving all month has made a difference."

* * *

I was thrilled to hear Lester say that I could go directly from contract. I only have three days remaining, but they'll be the hardest three days yet.

You see, the RangeMan standard contract for housekeeper services states that the housekeeper is only in charge of

a) Light snacks meeting a certain dietary requirement, as outlined in the guidelines, in quantities great enough for each man to have one serving twice (2x) a day.

b) Light laundry duty for members of management, which includes, but is not limited to:

1. Pressing suits.

2. Stain removal

3. Laundering non-personal items, such as pants and shirts. Underwear and socks are prohibited.

The original contract allows a branch to hire a housekeeper to do general maintenance and cleaning for the building, but if they feel they don't want or need a housekeeper, they aren't required to hire one. However, every branch always hires a housekeeper; the benefits of having one outweigh the costs of having this person on payroll. So every RangeMan housekeeper is doing 'extra non-contractual' duties that are usually approved by me, with an addendum to their original contract which I must sign. I'm trying to remember what was specified in the addendum I signed for Maria, so I call back to Trenton to ask Hal to search my records to see if he can find it. I also ask Armando if he has a copy. He searches and cannot find it. Hal cannot find a copy in my records.

Excellent! However, I realize that I am also part of Maria's problem. I've also allowed this situation to fester. Maria was my first hire and we didn't have the addendum when I hired her, but I should have gone back and had her sign one. I failed in the record keeping portion of my job, and I failed to hold her to the standard she was contractually obligated to follow. _Sigh_. I will have to apologize to Armando. We both failed her, and I cannot hold this against Armando any longer. I wrote her up on her annual reviews, but I'll also have to ding myself in my annual review for allowing Maria to do this without approval for so long.

After reviewing the medical records I realized that the majority of health problems reported were related directly to diet. I intend to hammer this point home to Maria when I call her to Trenton at the end of this exercise. Acid reflux, indigestion, constipation, loose stools and oily discharge, excessive flatulence (that made Luis laugh. This has been a great month for fart jokes.), all of these conditions are symptoms of the unhealthy diet here in Miami. The men may not enjoy my diet, but they're healthier. The monthly health check was three days ago, and every man here has lost, on average, nine pounds. Some have lost even more and they were stunned. The rampant acid reflux here has cleared up. Luis reports that the flatulence issues have been taken care of (he is really having fun slyly telling fart jokes around the men). Each man is now healthier than he was when I arrived.

There has been grudging respect for me and my diet lately. The men who are wearing smaller cargoes are definitely my newest fans.

I send Luis to the health food store for agave nectar and I set out making granola. It's a light snack in line with their dietary requirements and it doesn't require a grocery run. I make enough for all three days and set it out Thursday morning. I don't add any additional food all day. The men are confused but no one says anything.

Finally, Armando approaches me quietly and asks me to join him in his office.

"Shall I assume that granola is a light snack in line with our dietary requirements?" he asks with a sad smile.

"What gave me away?"

"Nothing. I reread the contract."

We sit in silence for a moment before I speak. "I am sorry for the harsh words I spoke when we arrived."

He shook his head. "No, you were right. I do appear to sit back and wait for someone else to take care of the problem but I will say, in my defense, that I never do that without trying to solve it myself. I put considerable time and effort into attempting to solve problems. The point I was trying to make with you, Ella, is that I can't hand out unlimited mat time for men's thoughts." I nod, sadly. I've seen his point. "I can hand out mat time, but all it will teach them is to keep their mouths closed. I need something else that makes the point, that shows them the error of their ways. That's what I attempted to do before and it didn't work. I can't punish people for their thoughts or feelings as long as it doesn't impact their _work_. That's where I'm stuck."

I smile. "I understand now. The way you handled that petition showed me that you try, but your men are fools."

We sit back and look at each other, smiling.

"Here's what I need from you, Armando. I want you and your Core Team to stay out of the way." He nods and picks up a pen to write notes. "I'm going to cycle every single housekeeper in RangeMan through your office. My way of saying 'I'm sorry' and I'm going to help. You're right; you can't take the men to the mats for their feelings, but we ladies?" I grin mischievously. "We ladies can hurt them where it counts. In the stomach."

Armando laughs. "You mean, more than you already have?"

I laugh. "Oh, much more. They **will** learn to respect the housekeeper because, as Lester said, having us around is a **privilege** of their employment here, not a right. I'm going to send each housekeeper here on a two week vacation. She will perform her normal duties, as she does at home. Your men will need to make the effort. Agreed?"

Armando grins. "Absolutely. Agreed."

"Do you think they will? Your men are a bit foolish."

The bluntness of my assessment makes Armando snort, then smile. "True. I have dunces and fools and no way to manage them."

I stand and smile a very sad smile at him. "Yes you do. Problem is, RangeMan brotherhood also applies, right?" He nods. "Well, this is the moment where **you** need to ask for some brotherhood from your management. That's what Javier did." I incline my head and Armando's eyes grow big. Now he understands how and why Javier managed to get all the help he needed. "Start with your CO. She's smarter than you think."

* * *

Sunday night, I call Rose. She's scheduled to fly into Miami tomorrow as the next phase in this plan. It took a while to find someone for the Atlanta office and I think Rose was the right fit. Miami won't know what to do with this strong black woman.

"Rose, dahling, how are you?"

"Ella, dahling, I'm fine. I hear I'm about to be a part of an attitude adjustment."

I blink. Who's talking? "Who said that?"

Rose chuckles. "Hal and Danny talk. Don't worry. They're discreet between them. Nothing shared between the two of them ever goes anywhere else, but Hal did call here and inform Danny that a psy-op was being run on behalf of Maria and that she needed kid gloves and star treatment. Since I was about to be subjected to Miami, Danny told me what to expect in that office. I could only come to one conclusion."

I exhale and smile. I should have known that my boys would clear the way. "Well, he's right. Let me give you the scoop on Miami." I fill Rose in on Miami and listen as she curses a blue streak. Rose has a filthy mouth, but they love her more for that in Atlanta. I shake my head. "Anyway, you'll be there for two weeks, Rose. Think you can handle it?"

"I can't wait to land. You went vegetarian?" She laughs. "I'm stuck between giving them a raw diet and a macrobiotic one."

"Cruel."

"They deserve it."


	11. Paybacks are a Bch

**A/N: Time? The day after Hal's successful day out with Steph!**

* * *

**Bonus Chapter: Paybacks are a bitch**

**Part I—Pre-Op Procedures**

**Ram's POV—Friday afternoon**

Like all good counter intel missions, we began by setting the conditions for a bit of misinformation.

"Connie?" She stares at me for a moment. I know she doesn't know my name and I smile. "Ram."

She nods. "Nice to meet you."

I nod toward Vinnie's door and raise an eyebrow. She nods.

"Steph needs your help. Can you come with me?"

Connie immediately hops off her stool and goes for her purse. Vinnie's door opens and I fix my most menacing look on my face. Vinnie takes one look at me and decides that whatever he has to say can wait. Connie grins.

"You guys have to teach me how to do that."

I smirk and escort her to my truck—not a RangeMan vehicle, a Dodge Ram. What?

I pull away from the bonds office and head toward RangeMan. I look over at Connie.

"As a part of passing RangeMan standards, Steph has to learn how to tail a vehicle without being detected." She nods. "We've decided to make it a two part test, following someone and avoiding being followed." I grin. "Since Joyce was so kind as to volunteer herself last time, we decided that it would be rude of us not to include her this time."

Connie blinks. "Sorry. That was more than 10 words. I was caught off guard."

I smile. "10 words or less inside Plum Bail Bonds. Outside?" I shrug. "We'll never be chatty. Pertinent info only. You in?"

Connie laughs. "I'm in. What do you need me to do?"

* * *

Conference 2 has maps everywhere. Hal and Woody spent the morning with Steph reviewing how to set up a tail and doing the pre-work that has to be done before you jump into the car. Since we're also going to involve an (uninformed) third-party, this plan has to be mapped and alternates considered at each point.

Using Joyce as the bait was a great idea. Otherwise, Steph would have gone to sleep on us.

Instead, she's approaching this with all the excitement of a kid in a candy store, apt considering it's Steph. We're thrilled; this is the happiest she's been all week. She is in charge of this operation; all decisions are hers to make. She's examining each option Hal and Woody present her and making smart choices. I walk in with Connie and Steph beams.

"Connie!" She and Connie hug and Connie looks around. It's her first time inside RangeMan, and I can tell she's desperate to take a good look around. We take seats and Hal brings up a digital map of Central Jersey.

"OK, here's the deal. I want Joyce to follow me. I'm going to run almost the exact same plan on her, but with a slight difference. When she 'loses' me this time, I'm swinging behind her. She'll actually follow you, right into the Pine Barrens."

Connie starts to smile. "OK, what do you need me to do?"

"Three things. One, call her with an easy skip, something she should be able to handle with no problems." Connie starts writing notes. "Two, when she arrives, call me with a really good skip. Make like you just got this skip when she showed up and it's a time crunch. She'll take the bait."

"Yeah, she will. Greedy cow."

They look at each other and laugh.

"Three, Jase will be there to pick you up as she leaves. Hop in the car with him and follow the plan. Now, let's go over the plan."

* * *

**Part II—The Trap is Set**

**Connie's POV—Tuesday**

The folder is sitting on my desk, just waiting. RangeMan folders are blue to clearly identify them from everyone else's. Inside, the 'skip's' info has been carefully prepped to ensure Joyce takes the bait. The 'bail' has been set at $100,000, and the info says he's a southern gentleman, the kind of skip who usually isn't violent to women. He's going to prison for white collar stuff, money laundering and tax evasion.

Whoever this 'Danny' guy is, he's really, really hot. Joyce will fall for this hook, line and sinker.

I called her ten minutes ago with a file. $100 for her, if she can catch 'em. Steph supplied the picture of someone named 'Jase' for this file. He's cute but . . . I peek at 'Danny' again. Good God, green eyes and dimples. Of course he's married. Too good to be true.

I see Joyce pull up outside so I set the trap. I call Woody, let it ring three times and hang up. Then I call Steph just as Joyce walks in.

"Steph!"

"Yeah?"

"Just got a huge bond. $100,000. White collar, non-violent, and he's fucking gorgeous. Time is short on him though." I make like I'm leafing through the folder and I'm excited.

"Vinnie bonded someone like that? Vinnie bonds slime."

"His insurance could cover it. Can you swing by and grab him?"

"Sure. On my way." _Click_.

Steph now has RangeMan phone manners. I smile and shake my head. Joyce is unusually patient, waiting for me to hand over her folder. I pick up her folder (yellow) and hand it to her. "Normal time. I'm not gonna be here all day."

I turn around with a stack of folders and start filing. I listen for the door to close and look.

She took the bait. The folder's still there, but the picture is gone. I grin.

* * *

**Danny's POV**

There was no way Trenton was cutting Atlanta out of this. My men were adamant. **We** taught the CO her skills. Whoever this 'Joyce' is, it was personal and we wanted to obliterate the enemy. The CO's plan is diabolical, and if this is a taste of who she is when mad, my men are appropriately scared. Jase also refused to be sidelined in this, so we hopped in the SUV and made the 13 hour trip to Jersey.

Hal's got the best part of this and he's grinning. "I've done it before. I'm looking forward to doing it again." I look and he smirks. "One hour, man. One hour. Actually, less than."

We're waiting in the SUV. Joyce fell for the world's most obvious trick. A child could see through this. At the moment, she's parked outside RangeMan, watching the garage. Steph returned to the office 30 minutes ago and is pretending to look up info on the mark. Finally, the garage door lifts and we can see her at the wheel with Ram, setting off.

Joyce starts tailing her at a discreet distance. I can see Woody, Connie, and Vince all take off in their SUVs. Hal finally starts and we all follow Joyce. Hal chuckles the farther we go, and I can see why. If this is the game Steph ran last time, she really did do a good job. Cleaning sweep? Check. Box turns? Check. This time though, she pulls into the Stop and Shop parking lot and we see the SUV, driven by Connie, take off down Route 1.

Joyce doesn't even notice the switch or the obvious difference in drivers. She's just following the black SUV. Hal and I are cracking up.

"Is she really this blind?"

"You know why she's doing this?" I shake my head. "Because Connie called the CO. She forgot this was a RangeMan skip. She wouldn't touch it if she thought it was a RangeMan skip, but she's still thinking Steph works alone so she feels OK with horning in. Plus, we set up the psychological angle. The skip is a handsome man valued at $100,000. That's what The Cop was valued at, and it made the CO's name. Joyce deserves what she gets."

"Is she that jealous of the CO?" I'm going to tease Hal for calling me handsome later.

Hal nods. "The feud goes back to childhood. Joyce is usually the winner because the CO is too nice to be brutal and put a final end to it."

"Bad?"

"The last shot we know of? She tried to sleep with The Cop when he and the CO were 'on'." I blink and Hal grimaces. "This is, of course, after sleeping with the CO's husband and breaking up her marriage years ago."

I sit back. "This shit's very personal."

"Extremely."

"Handsome?" I smirk.

"Connie's too vain for glasses," Hal says blandly. I laugh silently.

The CO has swung back into the formation, and we successfully follow Connie for about 30 minutes. The target has no clue she's being followed. Connie, with Jase instructing her, starts executing evasion maneuvers, but Joyce has gotten tired of being ditched. She speeds up and starts tailgating the SUV. Finally, Connie slams the brakes, speeds up and executes a bootlegger's turn. Joyce has to swerve to avoid her, and the two SUVs are now face-to-face. The target realizes she's been fooled but she doesn't realize that Jase is in the car. He's ducked in the seat to avoid detection. Right on time. The CO honks and she and Ram wave at a visibly furious Joyce as they drive by. Connie is laughing.

So are we. This is great.

Joyce immediately reverses and speeds around Connie to catch up to Steph. She starts following the CO, right into a heavily forested area. This looks like the backwoods of Georgia. I feel right at home. "Is this the Pine Barrens?"

Hal nods. He looks gleeful.

Steph slows up and finally stops.

"Joyce, what are you doing?" The CO is wired and we've stopped an appropriate distance away.

"I thought you might need a competent BEA on this takedown. You know, just in case you break your leg again."

"And **you** volunteered?" The CO laughs. "I have RangeMen. I don't need you."

"Fine. Maybe I'm here to be backup for them. Just in case one of you gets injured. That's pretty likely."

"Bitch," we hear Steph mutter. Hal's openly grinning. He can't wait. "Fine, but stay back. None of your big bad bounty hunter tricks. This is still a RangeMan collar, but since you followed us all the way out here, you might as well see how it's done."

Hal's turning red laughing. I'm grinning. Come on, Steph. Get a move on.

Finally, we can hear them move. After 10 minutes I hear the CO mutter, "This is the part of the plan I hate. Next time, I lose her in the ocean."

* * *

**Part III—The Trap is Sprung**

**Hal's POV**

After five minutes waiting, I get the beep I've been waiting on. The trio is a safe distance away. I restart the truck and drive over to Joyce's SUV.

Last time it took me 48 minutes solo. It's a team effort this time, so I'm thinking 25 minutes. There's a cheesecake on the line.

I climb out and I'm quickly joined by Vince, Binkie, Zero, Woody, and Danny. Connie is with Jase in the car, waiting. I pop Joyce's hood and grin. The only part of this that sucks is that the engine is still hot, but I can work with that. I remove the hood bolts and the guys position the engine hoist in place and finish removing the hood for me. They start lifting the SUV on jack lifts. Meanwhile I disconnect the battery and slide underneath to start removing the bolts that attach the engine to the frame.

Connie is timing so I get to work. The five gallon containers are set in place, so I pop fuel lines (hot! hot! hot!) and start draining fluids. Meanwhile, I start disconnecting major systems. Fuel, AC, transmission, I'm moving fast. I check that all fluids are done draining, everything's disconnected and no one will get hurt. Finally, I slide from underneath.

"Hoist!"

The guys pull the chain and the engine slides out like a breeze. Just in time. Binkie's pulled the van over and we use the hoist to transfer the engine into it. Meanwhile, Vince takes the hood and bolts it back into place. We cap the liquids, identifying with masking tape, and close the van.

"Time!"

"20:32!"

The guys slap my back and high-five me. Under 25! I'm visiting Candy this weekend. I want to celebrate my triumph.

Danny calls back to RangeMan and informs Maria that we need cake. We've thwarted the enemy. Time to let her know.

* * *

**Steph's POV**

We've been walking through the Pine Barrens for almost 40 minutes. Hector is watching from Trenton. He'll beep when I get too close to a road. I want to leave Joyce smack dab in the middle of the Barrens.

It's a typical day in early June, but the Pine Barrens is cool because of the trees. Ram is on typical RangeMan duty, gun out, moving cautiously. I'm walking as I normally do, completely unafraid and holding my stun gun. I explained, before we began walking, that the target owns property back here. Huge lie; this part of the Pine Barrens is a federally protected area. I can't believe Joyce is falling for this. Ram is smiling. I look over and he waggles his eyebrows. He's wired to the guys and that's the signal.

I stop and pull the file out of my purse. I pretend dismay.

"Crap!" I look around. "We're on the wrong side of this road. We shoulda gone right from the main road, not left. That's why we haven't found anything yet."

"Oh for Christ's sake! Gimme that!" Joyce snatches the folder from my hands. Ram slams the blank face into place and takes a step toward her. Joyce's eyes widen and she takes several steps back. She reaches for her gun before Ram's voice stops her.

"If you pull it, you better not miss."

Joyce swallows hard and looks at me. "He's a sniper. He won't miss."

Joyce looks through the folder. I look around. I hear the SUV in the distance.

"Why are you following her?" she asks Ram, whining. "She doesn't know anything. We've been walking in this forest for 30 minutes, and the only thing she's done successfully is get us lost."

I turn around smiling. "No, what I've done is taught you a lesson. You aren't a bounty hunter. You're a boil on my ass and this is the last warning you'll ever get from me. My life is not yours to try to ruin anymore. Try something else and the next time, I won't be so nice."

Just in time. Danny's driving, just to twist the knife.

"Looking for me?" he says, grinning.

Joyce reaches for her gun, but Ram lifted it from her when we started walking. She's got nothing. No gun, no cell phone, no ID. Ram could double as a pick pocket.

"Hi Danny! Hi Hal! Yeah, I'm ready to go."

Ram opens the door and we climb in. Joyce makes to follow, but Ram glares at her.

"Miss?" Danny says. We all smirk. "My name is Danny and I'm the head of RangeMan Atlanta. It's not a pleasure to meet you but I've already enjoyed knowing you."

Joyce is outraged, but Danny raises the window and heads straight to the road.

I sit back and look at Hal. "Well?"

"Pass."

"And?"

"She's making your cake and our cheesecake now."

I grin. Best. Day. Ever!

* * *

**Joyce's POV**

I can't believe this.

I fell for a Plum trick.

I've never been beaten by Stephanie Plum and she's left me in the middle of the Pine Barrens. Worse, she drove off with three incredibly sexy guys.

I suspected a trick the moment she didn't attempt to ditch me before walking into the woods, but I figured that if I stayed with her, and the guy with her, I'd be safer. I'd get her back later.

Now I'm in the middle of the fucking Jersey Woods. I turn around, looking for another car to come along, but it's useless. The truck with 'Danny' (if that's really his name, but GOD was he HOT!) was the only one that passed us the entire time we were here.

I simply can't believe this. I'm going to get her back and I'm going to be vicious. I'm taking Ranger. That'll teach her. That'll destroy her.

I start walking back to my SUV, wishing I'd brought lower shoes. These stiletto boots are sexy, but they're high as hell. After an hour, I make it back to my truck and hop in. I turn the key and nothing happens.

Nothing happens. Nothing lights up, nothing makes a noise, nothing happens. I just had an oil change. There's nothing wrong with my truck. I pop the hood and climb out. I'm stunned by what I see.

Or don't see.

I don't see my fucking engine.

There's a massive hole in my truck where the engine used to be. I stare at the hole for at least three minutes before I lose it. I lose my fucking mind in the middle of the Jersey fucking woods.

I reach for my cell phone, to call AAA, when I realize I don't have it. I check my pockets and I'm missing my phone, my gun, my wallet, and my emergency condom. The other items I might misplace but not the condom. Not when I screw Vinnie regularly. How did she . . .

The guy. He did it. He lifted everything from me.

I open the car and sit in the driver's seat. I have no idea where I am or how far I am from a main road. I have no way to call anyone. I have no money and no condom to use 'God's credit card' just in case I get an opportunity. And to cap it off, I've been tricked by Trenton's worst bounty hunter and left for dead in the middle of the woods. No one knows I'm here. Kevin won't look for me for days.

I've been left for dead.

* * *

**Epilogue: This was NOT part of the plan**

**Jase's POV**

Maria Salgado is a fantastic baker. That was the best cheesecake I've ever had, but the Trenton men tell me they'll make me and Danny honorary Trenton RangeMen if we pass the final hurdle.

The grins should have told Danny to decline, but he was high on sugar. So was I. I just helped the CO defeat a lifelong enemy. I felt ready to take on the world.

We pull up outside a house on Roosevelt Avenue and look out. Hal and Ram are grinning. So are the two ladies on the porch. Well, the old lady is grinning. The younger one is smiling broadly.

"Grandma!" Steph says, smiling. "Whose viewing is tonight?"

Is this the infamous Granny Mazur? She's what, 70? Is this the person the guys are scared of? I look at my XO and he's smirking. If the Trenton men are scared of this little old lady, they've just taken a nose dive in our estimation.

"Maurice Kuttner. Should be a good one. No one has seen him since before he moved into the nursing home."

Steph frowns. "So how did you keep in touch?"

"Phone. Letters. His daughter gave us news. It's an open casket for once, thank god, and we should be able to get in, pay our respects, and leave quickly." She turns to us. "Are you the men that gave Stephanie the swag?"

"Yes, ma'am," I reply.

"Well, it's wonderful to meet you both."

"Grandma, behave," Steph says, kissing her grandma.

My ass stings and I jump. I turn around and Mrs. Mazur is standing behind me, smiling. I turn to my XO, who looks confused. Hal and Ram are smiling evilly.

I am suddenly afraid.

* * *

I'm an idiot. There's a reason why the Trenton men are considered the toughest group in the company, the most unflappable, the steadiest in a shit-storm. It's because they get plenty of practice.

Granny Mazur joins us in the SUV and the CO makes the introductions. It's a quiet trip to the funeral home, although Hal's lips keep twitching. When we arrive, the funeral home director makes a beeline to the car.

"Mrs. Mazur, I've been asked by the family to prevent your entry. Your . . . " he searches for the word as Mrs. Mazur grows more indignant "incidents have cast a shadow over all the viewings. The family does not want this viewing interrupted."

"They have NO right to prevent me from saying goodbye. Maurice was a good friend, for many years!"

The funeral director sighs. "One you had not seen in years. The family feels your occasional phone call is not enough to warrant you tipping the casket over."

"You find Mary! I want HER to tell me I'm barred. Otherwise, I'll show up graveside to pay my final respects."

The funeral director looks horrified and scurries back inside to speak to the family. 15 minutes later, he returns, looking like a man headed to a funeral. Apt.

"The family will allow you to come inside to pay your final respects only if your granddaughter handcuffs you the entire time. No exceptions. They heard what happened to Irma Lemonski's viewing."

Danny and I look at each other. What happened? Hal is pink and Ram's lips are still twitching. And why on earth would you need to handcuff this little old lady?

Steph shakes her head. "I'm not cuffing my grandmother. If Mary Kuttner-Reynolds wants my grandmother cuffed, **she** can come do it. I won't."

Again, the funeral director looks horrified and scurries back inside to speak to the family. Ram quickly whispers the story of the Irma Lemonski viewing to us. I'm not sure about my XO, but I'm dying of laughter inside.

"Can we assume that the gentlemen with you are here as bodyguards for Mrs. Mazur?"

I've never been to a wake that required this much negotiation before you saw the body. Actually, I've never been to a wake that required negotiation before you saw the body. I've been to wakes where relatives were LoJacked by the county Sheriff, but this is new.

Steph sighs. "The RangeMen are here as bodyguards for me, due to my . . . ummm . . . enemies. My grandmother is not a threat."

The funeral director's shoulders droop and Hal coughs. He's turned red. "Slick," he whispers. I raise an eyebrow. "Steph refuses to have him consider us Edna's bodyguards, so if something happens, he can't say we failed. We aren't **Edna's** bodyguards."

Granny Mazur and the CO immediately go inside to pay their respects, RangeMen following close behind. The CO does not cuff her grandmother. Mrs. Mazur managed to get in without promising anything.

The moment we walk in, we're confronted by a huge floral wreath. Mrs. Mazur looks, reads the card, and says to Steph, "I thought Maurice was an accountant. This here makes me think he won the Kentucky Derby."

I coulda pissed myself laughing at that. Granny Mazur took the words right outta my mouth. We continue to make a beeline for the casket. Since it's open, she peers right in.

"Stephanie!" she whispers. It's a loud whisper. "Good God, Stephanie, look at him. No wonder he didn't want anyone to see him. Did he just let himself go? Is that why he's gotten so big?" She turns around to the CO. "Well, now the wreath makes sense."

Hal's blank face is firmly in place, but I'm sure he's mentally laughing. I know I am. Ram and Danny have turned red.

"Who asked you for your opinion, Edna Mazur! It's just like you to come to the funeral and make a mockery of it. My father was a wonderful woman who spent her final years with a thyroid condition, so shut your trap!"

Mary Reynolds has been advancing on Mrs. Mazur the entire time. Hal and I move swiftly to Mrs. Mazur's side, but she's already stepped forward toward Mrs. Reynolds.

"I didn't call your father fat. I didn't even say fat. I said he got big, which he is. And why are you so upset? I haven't seen him in years and I'm here now and he's big, that's all. That's fact."

Mrs. Reynolds is pissed. I see Ram circle behind her and my XO take position at the CO's back. Just in case.

Granny Mazur turns to move toward the cookies when she turns back around to face the bereaved. "Wait a minute! Did you say your father was a 'wonderful woman'?"

The entire funeral home is listening. I think quickly over the conversation and, yup, the bereaved did say 'wonderful woman'. Mary Reynolds is now looking around quickly, trying to determine how best to correct her mistake when we hear a loud '**Clang**' behind us.

Another old lady has opened the bottom of the casket and is peering in. "Well I'll be, Edna! You're right! Old Maurice here has on a skirt and heels." She starts giggling and I'm forced to move out of the way. I've never seen the over-60s move that fast. The casket is quickly crowded by mourners, who peer inside and grin.

"_Well, that explains why Mary didn't look like Maurice. Louise was playing away."_

"_I told you that Louise had something going with the milk man. Everyone thought I was crazy but see! I was right."_

"_That's a horrible shade of pink he's wearing. Not quite his skin tone."_

"_Those heels actually fit! What size are they?"_ A moment later, _"Where on earth do you find size 13 extra-wide heels?"_

"Maybe the man was his own jockey," I mutter. Hal's turning deep red and Danny's turned away to bite his fist. I hear giggles and look to see the CO on Ram's left side laughing into his shirt.

Edna Mazur quickly makes a beeline for the casket. She takes in the entire outfit and whirls around to Mrs. Reynolds, now red-faced and embarrassed.

"Was your father a cross dresser? Or was he just gay? Either way, obviously he wanted to go out in women's clothing, so why don't you put him in a dress instead of this ugly suit jacket?"

The family of the deceased looks scandalized, but the over-60s are nodding.

"My father was a man," says Mary, indignant. "I dressed him in death just as he lived in life, a man to everyone else and a woman privately. Thanks for blowing his private life up and making it public, Edna. I should have expected no less from you."

"Considering I'm still your parent's age, not yours, it's Mrs. Mazur to you." Edna Mazur turns around and strides determinedly to the casket. She reaches in, does something, and a few minutes later, she backs away, satisfied. "There. Better." I look inside. The deceased now has garish red lips. My blank face is getting a workout.

The funeral director immediately walks forward and attempts to remove the lipstick with his handkerchief, but it's not coming off. He then spits on the handkerchief and starts to scrub. Every over-60 in the room cringes and looks disgusted.

"Now, I say young man, that was disgusting! You are disgusting, using spit to remove makeup. That's unhygienic," one older lady says, brandishing her cane. The others in the room agree. I look around for the CO. She's in a corner, giggling with Hal. Hal's face has returned to pink, but he's biting his lip.

Moments later, I realize I'm in the wrong place, too close to the casket. The mourners are disgusted with the spit shine the funeral director tried to give the deceased, so they've advanced on him. Moments later, we hear cries of pain and requests to "Stop! Please!" I watch as Hal swiftly grabs Mrs. Mazur and proceeds directly to the exit.

I climb into the SUV and lean my head back. I'm wondering who I can tell this story to first.

"Since Mary situated her father as a woman down below, you think Maurice was wearing a thong?"

* * *

**Danny's POV**

I was making a list of people to call about the funeral home incident. Mrs. Mazur managed to beat the ban and start a riot. That takes skill. I bow before her brilliance.

We return to the CO's family home. Hal and Ram are grinning.

"Stephanie! Henry! Ramsay! This is a surprise. And you've brought someone new." This is clearly Mrs. Plum. The CO inherited her mother's eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," Ram replies. "Mrs. Helen Plum, I'd like to introduce Daniel Woods, the head of RangeMan Atlanta and Jason Hughes, also of RangeMan Atlanta."

"Is it just us tonight?" Steph asks.

"No, your sister's here too," Mrs. Plum replies. I hear Ram and Hal snigger behind me. "Your father will be thrilled." She turns back to Jase and me. "Either of you men speak Italian?" We shake our heads. "Darn. That would've made your father's day."

We start moving toward the house but I see Jase jump again. I look around.

Granny Mazur is smiling. Again.

* * *

I'm an idiot. I honestly thought, halfway through the meal, that I was in a scene from Monty Python. It was too insane to be believed. There's a reason why the Trenton men are considered the toughest group in the company, the most unflappable, the steadiest in a shit-storm. It's because they get plenty of practice.

We walked in and were introduced to Mr. Plum, who did indeed look disappointed that neither of us spoke Italian. The addition of four RangeMen to the table meant extra leaves so we assisted Mr. Plum in adjusting the table.

I was felt up. Not just a little pat, but a full exploration of my ass. Jase's blank face was on overload. I turned around and Mrs. Mazur was grinning.

"How old are you?"

I blinked. "35."

"Still firm. Good genes." She walked off to the kitchen, and through the open door we could hear her say, "Well, the dark-haired one has the better butt. Cute face, tight butt—" Everything else was cut off.

I reminded myself that my parents are responsible for my looks and, at that moment, they deserved the blame for the situation I was in.

I looked over at Hal and Ram, who said nothing. Just blank face. Jase's blank face was getting a workout. The last man looked confused. Mr. Plum sighed.

"Welcome to my home. You want to get it over with now, or do you want her to chase you for months?"

"I'm from Atlanta."

"She has her ways."

Jase coughed and hid a smile. Mr. Plum looked at him. "You aren't exempt either." Jase paled and I smirked. You demanded to ride along. Suffer with me. The other man shook his head.

"She never bothers me."

"Because she's feeling up men, not boys," Mr. Plum muttered. I hid a smile. "My son-in-law, Albert Clown."

Jase blinked. "Clown?" Clown nodded.

We hadn't been seated and this was taking on a surreal edge.

Steph was stuck at the end of the table with her mother, catching up on Trenton gossip. Hal ensured that Jase and I sat on either side of Mrs. Mazur. That rat bastard. I'm going to get him back. Ten minutes into the meal and I realized it was the best he could do. Clown dropped entire forkfuls into his lap while his wife dabbed at his shirt and tie and praised her 'cuddle-umpkins' for losing five pounds (I raised an eyebrow at Hal and he smirked then put his blank face back into place). His wife reached over to dab his shirt while he was lifting his fork and the entire forkful went flying into Jase's face. Mashed potatoes and gravy hit him square in the nose. I grinned when I realized Hal had immediately grabbed his phone and taken a picture.

I'm sending that picture to all RMAtlanta if he squeals about this.

I was seated across the table from a child who had decided to become a horse and was pretending her plate was filled with hay. Every so often, she would whinny and toss her head. She really does believe she's a horse; I watched her and felt ill. I will never complain about my boys' eating habits ever again. As long as they use knives and forks, wipe their mouths, and use napkins, they're cool with Daddy. The other girl is a model of propriety. Small subtle movements, never overfills her fork, and chews with her mouth closed. She'd fit in at any Junior League daughters' tea.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Mazur decided to feel up my front. Hips and thighs are pinched and my dick? Any longer and it would've qualified as a frustrated hand job. I wanted to file a complaint, but Jase was really getting it. I'll take the personal physical assault any day. Jase was in the middle of a one-sided food fight.

The baby was red and angry. She decided she'd had enough of her bottle, so she flung it across the table. Jase looked up just in time to get bonked in the head with it. Every man cringed and hid a smile. Mrs. Clown (I'm soooo laughing over that later) began apologizing profusely, but Jase waved it off good naturedly.

"It's ok, ma'am. I have a lot of sisters and brothers. I—"

Apparently, the baby didn't want dinner either. She swept her high chair and the bowl went flying. Jase was wearing baby cereal and milk in seconds. Bonus? Granny got hit too, so she squealed and left the table. Jase sat, milk and cereal dripping from his astonished face. Everyone looked horrified, except Mr. Plum. He took a look, grunted, and took another helping of pot roast with a smile.

Steph looked over at Jase and smiled. "Welcome to New Jersey, Jase. You'd fit in at any restaurant right now."

My blank face left the building. I started laughing. After a moment, so did Jase. Within minutes, the entire table was chuckling.

Mrs. Clown returned with a damp washcloth and apologized. This time Jase didn't stop her. He simply wiped his face, nodded, and looked at his plate. Everything was covered with baby cereal, but Mrs. Plum was in motion. He had a new plate and drink in moments.

"Perhaps I should take Lisa—" Clown began.

"**NO**!" The Plums shouted.

Clown looked around the table in surprise. Mrs. Clown smiled. "Albert, dear, Angie will take Lisa, right Angie?" Angie nodded and wiped her mouth. She was done with dinner, so she quickly grabbed the diaper bag and the baby and disappeared from view.

Granny Mazur returned to the table. Her daughter had replaced her plate also, so she sat and looked around. "Where's the baby?"

"Angie," Clown replied.

"Thank god for that. Let's finish dinner and get to dessert."

The men at the table finished dinner quietly while the ladies gossiped about the neighbors.

Mrs. Plum. _"Norma Kerner refused to take the grandkids for the summer."_

Mrs. Clown, scandalized. _"NO!"_

"_Yes! She said she and Andy had plans, but they haven't gone anywhere. It's so shameful."_

"_Maybe they plan to go somewhere later in the summer and it would've been impossible to take the grandkids with them." _Silence at the CO's quite sensible statement.

"_Stephanie, that's __**not**__ the point. It's your grandchildren. You take them whether or not it's convenient."_

"_I never did."_

"_And you have no idea how much Frank and I resented you for it every time."_

"_I have a good idea. Ask me if I cared. I had other things to do."_ I like Granny for that. I make a mental note to send my mother flowers **before** asking her to take the boys for the summer.

Dessert is served, a chocolate torte. I haven't had this in years and Mrs. Plum is a master. It's in the Ella/Maria range of spectacular. Jase and I eat two slices and glare at the Trenton Men.

This honorary designation was hard earned.

* * *

In the apartment later that night, I asked Hal why, after so many months of Atlanta and Trenton getting along, leaning on each other and working as a team, would he do something so incredibly cruel? My ass stung and my balls felt violated. Jase looked ill. Turns out, Granny Mazur had been feeling him up too.

Hal smiled. "Two reasons. One: Trenton tradition. Every RangeMan guards the CO in the company of her grandmother at least once. Any man that can survive Granny Mazur is kept. Two, we'll share the CO, but you sent her home in your swag. The CO, **our** Bombshell, came home in another man's clothes. Retribution was required. My men demanded it."

I thought about it and nodded. Understood.

I hope he understands that paybacks are a bitch.


	12. Yes, I MEANT It

**Chapter 45.5 Yes, I meant it**

**Tank's POV**

_Shiiiit!_ That's not how I wanted that to go down. I envisioned a nice lunch on Saturday afternoon with just my momma and Lula. Somewhere nice and quiet and peaceful, where they could sit and get to know each other. Not a trial by fire, complete with my nosy ass sisters and brother and none of my hellion nieces and nephews. I knew I shoulda called ahead and let her know I was bringing Lula to see her.

Ranger has Steph as the woman in his life that attracts mayhem, but my mother is the master of the three-ring circus.

My sisters and brother are already in the van, ready to head back to Lafayette Parish, when Momma turns to me.

"I like her. Hold on to her, Pierre. She's a good woman, no matter what her past. And it's clear she loves you, but I'm telling you baby, something in her past got her scared. You need to talk to her. You wanna marry her and have babies, you gon' have to get past whatever it is that's got her spooked."

I think for a second. I do need to know why I can never get her to answer her phone. I didn't know until I called to see if she got the plane ticket whether or not she'd actually come, and I'm still surprised she answered her phone then. I decide to level with Momma.

"I know something has her spooked, but I don't know what. I'll try talking. Momma, you need to understand something." She looks at me, still smiling. "Lula can't have kids. She was hurt badly. I've already told her that I'm not bothered by that and I meant it. Kids don't mean anything to me and I have enough nieces and nephews, so don't start down those lines. And I'm not sure about church on Sunday. You know the saying, and I'm not going to push her if she's uncomfortable."

Momma nods and kisses my cheek. "Fine, if you miss church I'll understand, but Sunday dinner is at 3PM and I expect you and her there. No excuses."

I head back inside after they leave and look at my woman. Lula is sitting on the couch, her head back, with a washcloth over her forehead. I thought so. This was too much for her. Three days in and I may have already screwed up my chance.

"You OK?"

"How many mo' relatives I gotta meet?"

How honest should I be? "I have no idea."

Lula glares at me. "What's that supposed to mean? You don't know how much family you got? I mean, I can tell you how many family members of mine you gon' meet and that's zero. They wrote me off when I needed them and we ain't spoke since. Clearly you in touch with yo' folk. So, how many?"

_Sigh_. Here goes nothing. "A family reunion would see about 100-150 of them. That's about 4 times a year. I'm hoping Momma keeps this Sunday's dinner around 30."

Lula is pale. Yeah. I knew that might be too much for her, but she always wants to know.

"30? 30 people might show up for one dinner?"

I nod. Lula falls back on the couch, and I take the washcloth to the kitchen and put some ice in it. I place it back on her head gently. There are tears running down her cheeks. I don't know why and I don't know how to fix it, but I know what'll make us feel better. I pick her up and take her to bed. I might not be able to stop the crying, but at least I can make it mean something different.

* * *

We spend the remainder of the week exploring San Antonio. I take her wherever she wants to go and she shops till she drops. We take pictures, dine out, and hit comedy shows and movies. The decorator, Grace, comes to RangeMan and she and Lula meet about my apartment. I gave Lula the guidelines: no pink, no green, no loud tropical colors. The basic palette needs to be peaceful. She can add color through accessories.

It was a major fight.

"Tank, that's boring as hell! How you expect me to live in a place with no personality? Can't put no colors on the walls or the floors and everything gotta be neutral. I ain't neutral! I ain't beige! I ain't black!"

"And I'm not Technicolor," I reply quietly. Grace had quickly vacated the apartment and was waiting to be called back. "I'm never gonna be comfortable with loud colors everywhere. Look at me, Lula. Look at my wardrobe, the apartment we staying in. That's me. Calm. Quiet. Low-key. You're the big punch of color to my life."

Lula clenches her jaw and pouts, arms crossed. I'm not giving ground here. I've seen her apartment. It's what would happen if Ringling Brothers and the Barnum and Bailey circuses got together and had a clown fight. No thanks. Wayyyyy too much shit going on there.

I'd prefer my place to look like Bobby's. Peaceful. Calm. Actually, that's not a bad idea. I call Bobby and ask him if he's cool with me showing Lula pics of his place. The pictures are online; he sends me the link.

"Lula Bear," I call. She walks over. "This is Bobby's Atlanta apartment. See, this is more me. Big comfortable furniture. Neutrals. Lots of room to move and his decorator added color through the pictures and blankets. There's color, but not a lot."

She studies the pictures. "What about Ranger and Lester?"

I shake my head. "No color. Their apartments are completely neutral. Lester's apartment looks cold, all ice blue and grey. Ranger's is pretty much beige and brown." I'm not fooled. She wants to see Ranger's apartment. I want to know why she's so desperate to see his home. Shit! Let the man have some secrets.

She stares at Bobby's apartment for a few minutes. "OK, I can get with this, but I need more color. His apartment is still pretty boring. It's still brown, black, and beige."

I look at the photos again. Yeah, she's right.

But I'm not living in pink.

Grace returns and she and Lula take a look at Bobby's photos. Grace smiles. "Mr. Brown's apartment has a lot of color, but it's all subtle. Look at the bedroom." We look; it's blue. "It's a greenish-grey with lots of white and brown as accents. His kitchen is dominated by the red tones of the cherry wood which plays well against the black stools and stainless steel. His bathroom and living room are both pale yellow, which looks beige against the bright white trim."

I stare back at the pictures in confusion and realize she's right. Shit. How many colors can women see?

Grace smiles. "What this tells me, Mr. LaPierre, is that you're more comfortable with color than you realize. It's just that your friend's apartment is subtle and low-key. Because it's dominated by wood tones, your eyes can rest and you don't feel constantly bombarded with color." I nod. That's exactly how I feel in Bobby's apartment. She turns to Lula. "What this tells me about your style is you need things to be broken up more. This has almost a run-on effect for you." Lula nods, smiling.

Grace makes a few notes. "What I can say is that my personal decorating style tends more toward Mr. LaPierre than yours, Ms. Jackson, but I can see how to marry the two together. I see room colors having a little more punch and using bolder accessories, but it may mean that the color palette is simplified. These pictures show three, possibly four very subtle wall and furnishing combinations. In order to make Mr. LaPierre comfortable, you two may need to agree on one or two colors and I can use shades and tints to make you happy."

I continue to study the picture. I see what she means. That living room color, carried through the whole apartment, would work for me. I can see Lula is also onboard with that plan.

"So we can go shopping for blankets and stuff, right? Pillows, fancy curtains, pictures!"

Lula's head is swiveling around the apartment, mentally seeing it. She's getting excited, and I open my mouth to speak before shutting it. I want her to come live with me. That means she's gotta be comfortable. Besides, Grace already said her style was closer to mine. Grace can rein her in.

Grace smiles and stands. "Let me work up a board to show you that will give you an idea of how it would work. We can meet again and discuss ideas before we move forward. OK?"

I nod and she and Lula talk all the way to the door. Rodrigo, a San Antonio RangeMan, escorts Grace from the apartment and out the building. I stand around my gutted apartment and hope Lula doesn't go overboard.

Lula smiles. "She's good. I didn't think we was gon' come to an agreement on that."

I nod. I can't wait to tease Bobby about the number of colors in his apartment.

* * *

Sunday morning we drive to Carencro to attend Sunday dinner. I've already talked to Momma and she's threatened the family: Anybody who opens their fucking mouths about Lula's past will get it. I've never brought a woman home before and they **will** make her feel welcome.

That's great, but I'm still on the lookout. The **first** person to disrespect Lula and I'm putting them in traction. I don't care. I'm trying to convince this woman to marry me. I need her. I want her. I've missed her.

Because this is a six hour drive, I make hotel reservations in Lafayette. I want to show her my old stomping grounds, my high school, my family home. We've been in Louisiana for 10 generations. We can find ancestors in slave documentation for plantations all through Louisiana. I'm Louisiana through and through, and I want Lula to see where I'm from, so she understands who I am.

Maybe if I take Lula, I can visit my father's grave without wanting to spit on it for once. Bastard.

We arrive at Momma's right before two. I didn't get my wish. This is clearly a family reunion. I'm estimating 100. Everyone wants to see the woman that got Pierre close to a noose. I turn the car off and turn to Lula. She's pale looking at the crowd, and I can see I have about 30 seconds before my aunts start pulling her from the car.

"Lula?" She blinks and turns to me. I hit the 'Lock' function on the car doors. 20 seconds. "I estimate 100, OK? Don't answer any questions you're uncomfortable with. Try not to discuss my life in Trenton or what we're doing this week. It's none of their damn business. If you need help, find me or my Momma. All my relatives are nosy as hell. I'll try to stay within sight, but if I don't let them have at you, it'll be vicious the next time, OK?"

She nods. The family is at the car and my aunts are pulling on the handle.

"Pierre! Boy, unlock this damn door. You bring yo' woman to meet us, then act like an ass."

I hate Aunt Pat. She's the nosiest one in the bunch. I unlock my door and step out. Immediately, Pat starts pulling on Lula's door, but it's still locked.

"Aunt Pat, if you break my door, you **will** replace it." My face is blank and she blinks and steps back. Everyone has crowded around the car and I see my Momma hurrying forward.

"Pat, get yo fool ass away from the car! I raised my boys better than that. Pierre gon' open his woman's door like he was taught, like what's right. He ain't gon' leave her to get drug out the car by you fools." Momma is batting everyone out the way to reach the car. I unlock Lula's door and help her step down. Momma has her in her arms and moving her through the crowd in minutes.

"Lula, baby! I'm glad you convinced Pierre to come home. Come on in the kitchen wit' me. You gon' be OK in them shoes? They high, baby. I can't wear no shoes like them anymore, but you look good in 'em."

I smile mentally. Momma is making it clear: Mess with this girl and you messin' with me. Pierre love her and I'm ready for him to settle down.

Momma is still frying fish and chicken in the kitchen and Lula volunteers to help, but Momma situates her in a chair with a glass of iced tea. I start to walk in but Momma points me right out the door. The women are holding court and I'm not welcome.

* * *

**Lula's POV**

I'm in the kitchen with Mrs. Carol Jean and I'm frozen. Mrs. Carol Jean has introduced her sisters (Pat, Louisa, and Mary Anne) and her late husband's sisters (Evelyn, Rose, DeLois, and Frances). I wave at Tank's sisters (Chenae is looking evil) and a bunch of in-laws, first, second and third cousins, babies, the whole shebang.

Did they all come out here to meet me? Damn! I'm not ready for this. I doubt I'm ever ready for this.

I offer to help, but Mrs. Carol Jean takes one look at my outfit and nails and declares I'm too pretty to be gutting fish and chopping up chickens. OK, I agree with that. I insist on something to do (to keep Tank's people from just staring at me) and Pat finally passes me some cakes to frost. OK, this is work I can do . . . although I'd rather eat the damn cake now. I need something to calm my nerves, although I did find it funny when Mrs. Carol Jean used her cleaver to point at the door just as Tank was trying to come in.

"So what ya'll done this past week? Pierre has been a gentleman, right? He take you out to see the city, right? He ain't kept you at his tender mercies all week, has he?" She winks and I laugh. I love Tank's momma.

"I've been at his mercy enough, but no, he got me out to see the city." All the women are laughing and Mrs. Carol Jean is grinning. "We did some shopping—"

"We?" she says, smiling.

"OK, **I** did some shopping. He carried the bags and tried to look interested." She laughs and so do the aunts. "We went to some comedy shows and to some really nice restaurants. He been showing me around."

"When you leave, baby?"

"We're playing it by ear." She nods, smiling. "We met with the decorator for his apartment, and I don't think he wants me to leave before she comes back with her ideas on how to decorate the place."

Mrs. Carol Jean nods. "Yes, he's been waffling on that apartment. What's your style?"

I grin. "Color!" Everyone laughs. "If left to Tank, that apartment would be brown. Brown leather, wood floors, beige all the way. We got into it about that."

"And?"

"Truce. He used Bobby's apartment as an example of what he likes and the decorator pointed out that there was a lot of color in that place. It threw him and made it easier for him to agree to meet me halfway."

She nods. "Yes, relationships are all about these little compromises. Having to come together and meet each other halfway. So you got more color?"

I smile. "Well, I'm waiting to see what Grace, the designer, comes back with but yeah, we got more color in the place. As long as it's not Technicolor, he says."

Everyone smiles. It's a real production in this kitchen. The aunts are frying chicken and prepping fish for a big fryer in the back yard. I can see all the sides being finished and I just finished frosting a caramel cake. I wanna lick the spoon.

Wilma grins. "Just like Pierre. Go ahead and lick the spoon. He always did." She pokes Thelma while I get to work. "Remember that? As a kid, if you wanted to find the frosting spoon, you just looked for Pierre. He had it, no doubt."

I laugh. The ladies all start telling me their favorite Tank story and I laugh till I have a headache. Drove his father's truck halfway across town at 13 and didn't get caught cuz he looked like a full grown man. Broke a boy's leg playing high school football, then broke his own leg the one time Mrs. Carol Jean came to see him play because he was looking in the stands trying to see if she was paying attention! Decided to run away from home at five but went back cuz his momma was making macaroni and cheese for dinner and that was his favorite meal. He got a whipping but Mrs. Carol Jean gave him extra for dinner.

Dinner is served outside on picnic tables, chairs, wherever you can get a seat. As the guest of honor (really?), I'm seated next to Mrs. Carol Jean and served first. I'm looking around for a man that looks like Tank's daddy and I don't see one. Matter of fact, now that I think of it, Tank never mentions his daddy. While he's off grabbing dessert, I decide to ask.

"Mrs. Carol Jean?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Where's Tank's daddy?"

The table gets quiet. I realize I probably shoulda asked Tank first. Mrs. Carol Jean smiles sadly at me. "Dead, baby."

"Oh."

"You need to talk to Tank about that."

I nod. Clearly this is a touchy subject. When Tank returns I lean over and whisper, "I messed up." He raises an eyebrow. "I asked about your daddy. Touchy subject?" He nods, jaw clenched.

Once dinner is over, we sit around talking. His male relatives are all introduced and they take time to tease me about "getting 'ole' Pierre here whipped. Boy spent half the afternoon looking at that door." Tank blushes, as much as he does, and mutters that they're lying. He didn't have the best view of the door until he made Antoine move.

I'm hugged by everyone when Tank announces that we're going to leave. His momma whispers that she knows his plans and she'll see me this week and she's looking forward to it. The rest of his relatives tell me they look forward to meeting me again, sometime soon.

Preferably sometime soon. This is the most time Tank's spent with the family in years.

* * *

The next day, Tank gives me a tour of Carencro. Ain't much to tour, really. The town is small. We end up at the graveyard. We're still sitting in the Escalade when Tank speaks.

"My father was a bastard." I look over and his jaw is clenched. "Drank too much, smoked too much and when he drank he beat the shit outta us. Beat the shit outta me and Antoine the worst cuz we were turning into men in his house. We didn't automatically obey him anymore. As we got older, we started instigating the fights to keep him off Momma and the girls."

I nod. My family life wasn't as bad as his, mostly because my daddy wasn't there, but this sounds brutal.

"Town gossip said I wasn't his. I don't look nothing like my brother or sisters." He's quiet and I take a moment to think about that. He's right. He doesn't, not body wise, but you can see the resemblance in the faces. "He believed Momma had fucked around on him, so he never claimed me as his. Always looked at me as if he wanted to break me. Momma swears she never cheated, that I'm his, but he thought she named me Pierre to make up for a guilty conscience." He turns to me. "His middle name. It's why I hate being called Pierre."

I nod. Sounds perfectly reasonable to me and makes my dislike of my name seem petty.

"He drank himself to death when I went to juvie. I didn't cry. I didn't miss his ass at all. If anything I was relieved. It meant he'd never hit my Momma again."

I lace my fingers through Tank's hand. "Do you **want** to visit his grave today?" He shakes his head. "Then let's move on."

Tank looks at me, serious. "I rarely drink more than a beer or two. I don't smoke often. Just a cigar or two on special occasions. I've never hit a woman in anger and I'll never hit you, angry or not. I don't want to be the bastard in the grave six feet under over there." He passes me his handkerchief, starts the car, and we head to his high school.

* * *

**Tank's POV**

This feels uncomfortable. I'm peeling back everything for Lula and it hurts more than I thought it would. Momma told me I had to talk, I had to make Lula feel like she knew me as a man in order for her to make a decision.

"Baby, if I'd known the man your daddy was before we married, I'd never have married him. Tell her who you are now, so she can make a decision."

My momma has never been wrong, so I'm letting her see me. I hope I can get through all of it today. This talking stuff is hard and goes against all my training. We arrive at the high school and I grin. Football practice just broke for lunch. It's too hot for the boys to be out here running and sweating, so we should have the track for a while. I look down. Lula's wearing sneakers like I asked her to. Good. We can walk the track.

I climb out and take her hand. Now for another piece of my history.

"I got locked up in juvie at 14." She stops and looks at me in shock. I nod and tug her forward. "I was a quiet kid and quiet kids, in Louisiana, get overlooked. Didn't mean I was stupid. I just didn't speak unless I needed to. Besides, I spent my time listening to my father beat my mother and trying to think of ways to leave home. I had other shit on my mind besides cat, rat, mouse." Lula laughs and I smile mentally.

"Since I was quiet, nobody knew who the fuck I was. The teachers just kept passing me. So, I started skipping class, then school altogether, and hanging out with Antoine's crew, doing petty crimes. That's what I got locked up for at 14. Robbery. I was the juvie, so Antoine let me take the fall for it. Otherwise, he'd have gone up for 5-15."

I look at Lula, who nods, clearly pissed.

"Back then, juvie wasn't separate from adult. Thank god I was big at 14. Went in at 5'8" and came out a 6' even. Adult jail is no place to be and I had a year of that shit. It was a volunteer working with juvies in that place who realized I couldn't read. She spent the next year working with me, coaching me, until I could. Had me put in the literacy program with the adults and brought me all kinds of books, arranged for me to get books on tape. Lucille was a good woman, a true friend. When I got out, we kept in touch until she died a few years ago.

Meanwhile, my momma threatened to remove a layer of my ass if I ever got sent up again. She overheard Antoine bragging about how he got out of going to jail and she kicked his ass out. Told him that family came before some little thugs in the street and if he'd sell his brother like Joseph into slavery, he deserved what he got." Lula harrumphs and I smile. "I told Antoine, I ain't Joseph. I won't forgive that shit so easy, but my nephews don't deserve to not have what they need because they daddy is a shithead. That's why I pay his child support and he knows that if I don't pay, Tamika will have his ass put in jail the next day. Me and her, we cool cuz she know I love my nephews, but she hates his ass."

"I ain't that fond of him either," Lula mutters, looking pissed. I laugh and hug her close.

"So I get out and I'm ready for high school. Thanks to Lucille, I can read and I'm good at English and history, but not science. Math I'm good at thanks to hustling, but Algebra?" I shake my head. "Math ain't supposed to have letters." Lula laughs hard at that. "So I'm failing math and science and I call Lucille for help. She tells me she's not that great in those subjects either but I should ask the teachers for help. I ain't comfortable with that and she told me 'A true genius admits that he knows nothing'. Einstein. So if he's humble enough to ask for help, I should be. I think on it and I ask for help. When I graduated, I graduated number 14 in a class of 161. I went from being nobody to in the top 10% of the class."

Lula is smiling at me. We keep walking around the track and I realize I'm smiling too. I enjoyed my time here and, with Lula by my side, it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it might to think about how Antoine sold me out.

"So, that's why I paid for my sisters' educations. I didn't want them to be like all the other girls around here, pregnant at 16 with no education and no husbands around. I've seen enough of that. They know my standard. They keep their legs closed and go to college. You got a free ride as long as there's no babies involved. The moment you pop up pregnant, my support stops. Obviously, you loved some fucker enough to pop up with his kid, so let him take care of his responsibilities. That baby ain't my responsibility." Lula is nodding quietly. "So that's why I'm 2 for 3 with them. Wilma and Thelma got good degrees and good jobs. Meant they could meet good men and get married before they had babies. Chenae has a year left."

"What she studying?"

"Social Work. Won't pay worth shit in Louisiana, but she'll make a difference and that's all I care about."

Lula nods. I know it's a sore point for her that it's taking her so long to get her Associate's. She's paying for it one and two classes at a time because that's all she can spare. She's too proud to let me help and I'm proud of her for not giving up.

"Ranger? Ranger, Lester, and Bobby are my brothers. And Hector. Those men have been there for me since the moment I met them in the Army. Ranger introduced Hector to us and Hector's rock solid, a true friend. I never had those until I met them. I look at Antoine and I want to break him sometimes. Weakest bastard I know but like I said, if I stop paying his child support my nephews go without. He uses his child support money to do what he wants, which is buy weed and try to be a rapper."

"He any good?"

"Nope. Can't rhyme worth a damn."

Lula laughs then sobers. "You got a double standard. That ain't fair."

I nod. Shit. She caught me on that. "Yeah, I know. The girls call me on it all the time, but them boys carry our name. They get pregnant, that's some other man's child. His responsibility. I recognize I'm not right in this but Tamika knows the deal. She knows that the day I marry is the day Antoine goes to jail cuz I'm not paying anymore."

Lula stops. "You know I can't have kids," she says quietly.

"You know I don't care," I reply. "I want to marry you. I didn't ask you to have my kids." She swallows hard and nods. We walk around the track once then return to the Escalade. Now that she's seen the graveyard and the high school, I'm done with Carencro.

* * *

**Lula's POV**

Tank's doing full court press with this. He's serious about wanting to get married, and I don't know if I'm ready. Getting married would mean moving, clearly. He might talk a good game about sending Lester here and taking Trenton, but he's clearly a southern boy at heart. He's close to his momma and family.

What do I have holding me to Trenton? I mean, I'm not in contact with my family, so that's not an issue. My job is shit. I'm in school but I can transfer.

Jackie, Steph and Connie. Really, my friends are the only things holding me to New Jersey. Actually, just Steph and Connie. Now that I'm not on the streets anymore, my friendship with Jackie is distant, which hurts. That's why I'm so scared of losing Steph. She's my first grown-up friend, the first person who looked at me and saw more than just a ho. Not being able to talk to her like I want hurts. Not being able to get past the RangeMen to see and talk to her hurts.

That day at the spa, Mary Lou said something that stuck with me. When she had her baby, her relationship with Steph changed. She had bigger responsibilities and Steph wasn't going to come first anymore. That's how I feel about Steph and RangeMan. She has RangeMan, Tank's company to run. Since he told me he's a part owner, I realize that Steph is Tank's employee too and that's why she's so determined to do a good job. She's doing it for Ranger, Tank, Bobby, and Lester. Every time I pitch a fit about wanting to see her, I'm doing it when she's trying to make sure the company is OK. She don't need me doing that. She needs me to support her. What did Mary Lou say? She calls and leaves messages for her to call when she has a moment. Reminds her to get out when she can. That's what I need to do. They still friends and they've been friends for years. Decades. Since they was little girls.

Me and Steph, we can do it. We'll make it. We just have to put effort in.

I turn to Tank. He's spent all day telling me his secrets. Might as well tell him mine. "I did this once before," I say, quietly. "I believed a man when he said he loved me and I followed him from my home to where he was going and I ended up trickin'. This feels déjà vu. I don't know if I trust it."

The look on Tank's face is astonished, then blank. "Is that why you won't answer the phone?" I nod. His jaw clenches. The rest of the ride is in silence.

* * *

The rest of our time in Lafayette Parish is quiet. The day before we leave, we invite Mrs. Carol Jean to join us for dinner in Lafayette. She's grinning to beat the band. Tank's quiet, quieter than usual. I'm nervous.

"Lula Baby!" She hugs me tight and grins. "I thought Tank might never bring you to see me again."

I smile. "He's been giving me the grand tour. I think I've seen everything related to Carencro over the last few days."

"Couldn't have taken that long. Ain't that much here to see." I grin and we both laugh. We tease Tank over dinner and he grins and doesn't say much.

I'm nervous. He's more quiet than usual. Finally, the waiter brings dessert, a small 6" cheesecake.

It has a diamond ring and a flower on top.

I stare at the ring, appetite gone. It ain't no small diamond. The band is made for the finger of a full-figured woman. Lots of diamonds and baguettes on this stunner.

Finally, I look up at Tank. He smiles. "Whenever you're ready." He passes a handkerchief to his momma, then me. I look over and Mrs. Carol Jean has tears running down her face and she's grinning to beat the band.

I look at the ring, then Tank. "What? No knee? No flowery proposal? Just a ring and a cheesecake?"

Tank laughs, a booming laugh which gets the attention of anyone in the restaurant **not** already watching us. He cuts a piece off the cheesecake and feeds it to me. "There. I've fed you cake, given you a flower and I've presented the ring. That's the wedding ceremony and the reception all in one. Jitters gone?"

I narrow my eyes and his momma pops him. "Boy, get on your knees and do this right! Give me a daughter-in-law before I pop you again." I hear people all across the restaurant chuckle.

I shake my head and raise my hand, then extend it. Tank gets the idea. He slides the ring onto my finger then kisses it and me, a passionate, heart-stopping kiss. I hear an ear splitting whistle behind me and find Bobby grinning.

"Looks like I made it just in time for the best part. Santos is gonna flip that he missed this!"


	13. Good News Gets Around

**A/N: This starts from the end of "Yes, I MEANT It."**

* * *

**Chapter 47.5: Good News Gets Around**

**Bobby's POV—San Antonio, 8p.m. CST**

I'm grinning like an idiot and I can't stop. Lula looks so happy. She and Mrs. Carol Jean are examining her ring, cooing over the diamonds and the inscription Tank put in. _My Love is Forever Yours_. I'd tease him about that but hell, I'm jealous. Lula's the right woman for Tank. She livens his dour ass up, and I'm thrilled she's here. He's been in a much better mood since he found out she was coming.

"So, strippers at the bachelor party?" I murmur. Tank raises an eyebrow and I grin. Hey, you and Ranger may be taken (oh **please** God let Ranger get his shit together) but Les and I aren't. "Come on, we're looking forward to celebrating the end of your bachelorhood."

"Not with strippers, you don't," Lula says, looking up. Her face is fierce and Mrs. Carol Jean is smiling at me. "You can celebrate with strippers if you wanna, but no Tankie at that party." She leans over to him and whispers something that makes Tank blush red. Like, literally, red. Mrs. Carol Jean hoots and laughs loudly and I join her. Whatever it was, it must have been good for **Tank** to turn colors.

I grin. "Fine. Les and I will hit the town on our own." I turn to Tank. "You tell your best man yet?"

Tank shakes his head and, smiling, pulls out his cell phone. He types a short message then motions to Lula. "Baby, lemme see your hand. Need to get a picture."

"Wait!" Lula says. She pulls the ring off, reaches into her purse and applies some lotion. "Don't be sending pictures of my ashy hands. This is the first announcement. It's gotta be _right!_" She puts the ring back on and poses her hands.

Tank takes a few shots and finishes the text. "You wanna be on this?"

"Hell yeah!" I grin. "Gotta save that one for posterity. The first one of the Four Shades of Death to go down."

"OH! Send that to Steph, too!" Lula says.

Mrs. Carol Jean snorts. "Include me on that text. I want to send it out to the family."

Tank looks up, but his mother looks at him hard. "Better they know now, and can start putting their affairs in order, than later."

I laugh mentally. Baby Shug is going to have problems with Tank getting married. He's already told me that she's upset about it, but since this is her last year in school, he's shrugging it off. He'll pay for her to finish. He's waffling on paying for grad school. He did for Wilma and Thelma and he recognizes that it's unfair to cut Chenae off without allowing her to finish her education. She kept up her end of the bargain so he wants to keep up his.

I turn to Mrs. Carol Jean. "How is Baby Shug?"

"Who's Baby Shug?" Lula asks.

"Chenae, honey," Mrs. Carol Jean answers, patting her hands. "She's doing real good at Tulane. You know they got the oldest school of Social Work in the South and since that was Pie—" Tank looks up sharply—"Tank's alma mater, that where she went." Mrs. Carol Jean wrinkles her nose and frowns at Tank. "He know yo' real name. Why can't I use it?"

Tank sighs and rolls his eyes. He glares at me. "Call me by it and I'll choke you."

No need to threaten. I still remember the pain the first time he punched me for calling him by his real name. Les and I had been teasing him and we had no clue why he reacted like that. Ranger quietly told us later. We promptly put that information out of our heads.

Mrs. Carol Jean smiles. "So, since that was Pierre's alma mater and he loved Ms. Lucille so, she honored that by going to Tulane to study to continue her work."

Tank grunts, but I know he's proud of his baby sister. Les and Ranger are waiting for the day that Tank realizes that he's created a selfish entitled snob. I tried to tell him, but he ignored me. Chenae is a sweet girl and she loves her big brother, but having Tank subsidize and praise her for all her achievements has given her a sense of superiority. That's going to make it extremely difficult for her to be a social worker. It will be hard for her to accept that her best work will be among those with the least and she won't be able to continue to afford her current fabulous style of living without his support.

Baby Shug and Lula **will** butt heads. I expect that showdown to happen sooner rather than later.

My phone beeps. I check the message and laugh. Perfect!

_This time, I remember the proposal._

* * *

**Steph's POV—Brooklyn, NY 9:30 p.m. EST**

Lester's shower isn't bad. It needs more shower heads, but there's so much room! I stayed in there for at least 20 minutes. Something else I love about staying in these apartments: the guys don't skimp on the luxuries. This is a great bathroom. Fluffy towels, designer toiletries and never ending hot water.

I exit the bathroom and look for my phone. I'm almost certain I heard it beep. I can't find it so I give up and pull on a black t-shirt and a thong. I find the phone under the t-shirt and check the message. Moments later, I'm jumping up and down and yelling at the top of my lungs.

"**LULA AND TANK ARE ENGAGED!**"

I'm so happy for her and the ring is magnificent. My cheeks hurt from smiling and I hope that Ranger knows. I'm sure he does. Tank would have immediately sent this to Ranger. I forward the text to Connie and ML and my phone rings two minutes later.

"Steph?"

"Hey Connie! Isn't it great!" I'm trying to tame the scary hair for bed.

"Isn't what great? Your text just shows as a black bubble."

I check the phone. Crap. Encrypted. My phone beeps. "Hey, ML is on my other line. Let me call you both back." Minutes later I have both on the line. "OK, I forgot that texts sent to me from other RangeMen are encrypted and won't forward to anyone outside RangeMan. Sorry. Anyway, Tank sent a message that he and Lula are engaged!"

I hold the phone away from my ear. Smart move. Connie and ML start yelling and cheering.

"Oh My God! We have to get her on the line. Call her, Connie!" ML says. Connie disconnects and I wait three minutes before calling Connie back.

"You see my ring?!" Lula squeals. She sounds giddy.

"Hell no! Steph tried to forward the text but Tank sent it encrypted. We couldn't see shit," Connie grouses.

"Hold on." My phone beeps moments later and I hear the intake of breath on the other lines.

"Damn!" ML and Connie breathe, in unison. Lula and I laugh.

"I know, I know!" Lula sounds breathless and excited.

"Does Tank have a brother?" Connie asks.

"He ain't bout shit," Lula replies.

Huh?

"Huh?" Connie says. "You've been in the south too long, Lula. What does that mean?"

She laughs. "Means he's no good."

"Damn! You got the good one," Connie laughs.

"You know, I know this is a weird question to ask, but what's your new last name going to be, Lula?" ML asks.

Lula is quiet. "You know, I don't know. His last name is LaPierre."

"LaPierre?" Connie and ML echo, in unison. They've been spending time together to respond like that.

"Yeah."

"So you're gonna be Lula LaPierre?" Connie says. I can hear her snickering.

"Oh shit," Lula mutters. "That doesn't sound all that great."

I laugh. "OK, Lula LaPierre doesn't sound that great, but Tallulah LaPierre does."

The phone is silent. "I could hurt you for that, White Girl."

"Which one? There's three of us on the line," I reply. ML, Connie and I all laugh. Finally, I hear Lula laugh.

"You could hyphenate," Connie suggests.

"Lula Jackson-LaPierre. Not bad. I think the two L's running on was too much," Lula says.

"Hey, are we breaking up the happy moment?" ML asks. "I mean, I remember what I did after Lenny slipped my ring on my finger."

My smile drops. I spent the night listening to my mother make wedding plans because Dickie proposed at my parents' house at dinner. I don't want to think about that. Apparently Connie and ML had a better time because they're giggling.

"Nah, not yet anyway." We laugh. "We're in the car headed back to my future mother-in-law's home." We hear someone speaking in the background. "It's my best girlfriends. They're congratulating me," Lula says to the unknown person. "Mrs. Carol Jean, Tank's momma, is in the back seat. She said to tell ya'll hey."

"Hey!" we reply.

Lula passes the message over then says, "Tank says hey too."

"Did he really say hey?" I ask. "Or did he grunt?"

Lula laughs. "You know the man. What you think?"

"He grunted," Connie replies and we all laugh. I hop up and get a glass of water, then stretch out on the couch.

"Hey Steph?"

"Yeah?"

"Maid of Honor?"

"Of course, Lula." I smile. She and Tank are getting the happy ending.

Connie starts asking Lula about where she wants to have the wedding and what her colors are going to be, and I'm thinking about Ranger. I hope he's safe and that he wraps this op up soon.

I miss him.

"Steph? You OK?"

"Tired. It's that time and I've been up since six."

"Damn. Sorry girl. I know how that is. Take that nap and we'll talk later. We gotta plan."

"Goodnight," everyone says, and we hang up.

Come home soon, Ranger.

* * *

**Les's POV—New York, NY, 10 p.m. EST**

Man, am I glad this plane is finally about to land. I feel naked. I'm ready to get my bags from baggage claim and reattach the hardware **now**.

The flight attendant comes over the speakers and announces we can turn on our electronic devices again, so I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. Flying out of San Antonio wasn't bad, but their airport sucks. Thankfully, United has decent flights out, which is great if I need to make a quick trip back to Newark or NYC, so it will work.

_Beep_. New message.

I click on it and start laughing like a loon. He did it! That crazy motherfucker did it! Bobby owes me a hundred bucks and a bottle of tequila. I told him Tank would go down first. Lula required much less effort than Steph. I whistle at the ring on Lula's finger. That's a stunner. I hesitate to even try to guess at the price tag on that beauty. That's serious cash, I know that.

_Did you leave any diamonds for anyone else?_

I sit back in my seat and grin. Congrats, Tank! Congrats, Lula! 'Bout damn time you two decided to try again. I hope Tank talks this time. With Mrs. Carol Jean there to remind him to talk, I'm sure they'll work out any lingering issues. I'm thrilled Lula gave Tank a chance. Mat time with him was becoming a bit painful for me.

Lula and Tank have the same issues Steph and Ranger have. The ladies have issues with trust, bad past relationships with men, lack of family support, and a disturbing tendency to want to show their independence by doing things their way . . . without listening to or accepting anyone else's opinion. They're bright, loyal, funny women with big hearts and lots of courage, but loving them won't be easy. They'll always want to have a say, to be involved in the decision. Ranger and Tank are accustomed to giving orders.

I shake my head. Conflict of interest there.

On the guys' side, Ranger and Tank both have problems communicating, and they also have trust issues and issues with being 'emotionally available' (if I listen to Dr. Phil …which I'll never admit). Ranger and Tank will throw money at a problem to solve it without getting in deep because that could get messy . . . and require talking. Actions are easier than words, but money doesn't impress Steph or Lula. You have to be willing to talk. That's why I knew Tank would go down first. He will accept his mother's advice and if she advised him to talk, he'd talk. Clearly, he talked.

Ranger? I told Hector he was going to have to drill that into Ranger's head. Since he's the closest to Steph right now and working with Ranger on his op, he'll have better opportunities to do it. Normally that would be Tank's job, but since he's in Texas, he's out of the loop this time. Hector is proving, yet again, why we were right to trust him with our lives and bring him into our close brotherhood. He's working to ensure Beautiful sees (and accepts) her part in this fiasco and that Ranger is prepared to open up to her when she's ready.

Tank's success with Lula is making me wonder if Ranger has thought about how Steph's going to integrate into his life and the changes he'll need to make in order to make a relationship with her work. He doesn't realize how much she's a part of his being. When a woman can sense your presence in two minutes or less, she's a part of your soul. Steph is Ranger's other half, the missing part of his heart, and I think she's getting there.

I know why he's waffling and I know why he's scared. He needs to tell her. He needs to open up to her but I finally see his dilemma. I finally understand why he's held back.

Beautiful doesn't love herself. The morning we confronted her in her apartment, when she let it slip that she wasn't incompetent, that's when it hit all of us. She's been told that she's inferior, replaceable, second best and less than all her life, and she'd internalized those messages. She's still got a fighting spirit though. She's still trying to tell the 'Burg "Fuck You!" but she was going about it the wrong way. She saw asking for help as an admission of her weakness, her incompetence.

When Ranger fills her with his love and support, it makes her stronger, but without him there to back her and prop her up, she falls. She's not strong enough to live a life with him yet and living with Ranger, you can't be weak. She has to be able to stand by his side **and** stand up to him. I finally get it. Ranger wanted to see that Beautiful loved herself before he offered her his life. She needs that internal strength to stand by his side and he can't give her that. That's something she has to find all on her own.

Lula loves herself, a lot, but she didn't believe Tank could really love her without her having to fight for it. He's shown her that he does and he will. No fight needed. She just needed to accept that and stop distrusting his love and his word. She's accepting it. She believes him. She's ready to move forward. That short time apart was good for both of them. It made them recognize what was important.

I exit the plane and claim my bags at baggage claim. I hate NYC cab drivers, but I didn't want to bother with renting a car or having a RangeMan pick me up. This guy obviously learned to drive where the roads are mere suggestions. This is the second time my dinner has nearly decided to revisit. I tell him to take me to Flatbush in Brooklyn and I'll direct him from there. Flatbush has made him nervous.

Little known fact about NYC taxi drivers: They don't know NYC. That myth of the friendly, knowledgeable cabbie is bullshit. They know how to get there if it's in Manhattan. If you can tell them '60th and Columbus' they can get there lickety-split. Anywhere else? Good luck. I hope your phone has GPS. I reach into my duffel and reattach my weapons. Both guns and all three knives back in place. I feel fully dressed again.

The appearance of the hardware made him nervous. He's a Sikh; I can't understand everything he's saying, but I recognize the prayer. He's driving with his eyes on me, via the rearview, instead of on the road. I'd smirk but I want to make it to the building tonight in one piece.

I wish Ranger could see Steph right now. She's getting there. She's learning to trust her own strength, rely on her own judgment. Convincing her to become the CO showed our belief in her and gave her an opportunity to use her skills for other purposes. Pulling her out of the sight of Trenton and the 'Burg has given her time and space to start finding her own worth. Without the 'Burg and her hypercritical mother there to constantly beat her self-opinion down, she's standing up and learning to fight back in a smart way.

I know that Hector's watching out for her. He's taking the 'care and concern' part of being partners to the utmost right now and she's giving it back. Listening to Hector grumble about Steph's order of bed rest made me, Tank, and Bobby howl. Then she followed it up by almost ordering him to stay home and not accompany her to NYC. We toasted her 'balls' for that one. We've never heard Hector sound like a little boy pouting, but if Steph is willing to go toe to toe with Hector, she'll be ready for Ranger when he returns.

I direct the cabbie to turn at 4th Avenue and the building appears up ahead. Thank God. NYC cabs make my bladder weak.

She's getting there. About time. Those two need to end the foolishness. I'd pay for the wedding if they make it down the aisle. It will be the one psy-op I'll be the most proud of and never, ever speak of. Their love will speak for itself.

* * *

**Hector's POV—Brooklyn, NY 11:00 p.m.**

I'm exhausted and grateful _Angelita_ allowed me use of Lester's Jacuzzi. This damn injury hurts. I never realized how important my shoulders were until now. I'm careful to never wince around her. I love and hate that weepy look in her eyes. Makes me want to kill my attackers for making her worry.

Normally I would be asleep now but I was determined to take _Angelita_ to the 34th Street Macy's. Javier and Jorge went with us and we had a great time. _Angelita_ shopped till she dropped then picked out ties for me. Javier and Jorge hid smiles but I allowed it. I was truly surprised when we got back into the SUV and she passed me the Issey Miyake shower gel. I was running low and it was thoughtful of her to purchase a bottle for me.

I'm settled in bed, in my boxers, when the phone buzzes. I debate checking it because _Angelita_ dictated that I had to get more than four hours of sleep until this injury heals in order to accompany her. Normally I'd ignore this, but she chooses the weirdest times to want to climb into bed with me and make sure I sleep. I'm grateful Ranger's not around to see it. I might be gay, but I get morning wood too. He'd unman me before he finished thinking it through, and I'm rather fond of my balls. I decide to check the phone and pray it doesn't contain an urgent request that _Angelita_ will catch me working on all night.

Manny. New intel to discuss in the morning. OK. There's a second message. Must have come through while I was in the Jacuzzi. I check. Damn! I'm grinning at Lula's hand. That is one amazing ring. My god. Hmm…princess cut center stone, pave diamond setting and the center stone is at least 2 carats. Hmm...that's definitely somewhere between $25K and $50K in diamonds and platinum decorating Ms. Jackson's finger and it's the perfect ring for her. Not quite over the top and ostentatious but definitely eye-catching. It screams 'Lula!'

I'm not the world's biggest fan of Lula, mostly because of her lack of self-control, but if Tank's chosen her, I will accept her as a sister. The woman is Tank's opposite in every way but he loves her, and I will admit that Lula does have her good points.

The woman has amazing strength and self-esteem. The Spandex proves it.

Lester's text is funny too. I'm wondering what to send to Tank, how to congratulate him, when Ranger's text comes through. I burst into laughter. Good one, _hermano_. Ranger's sense of humor is suspect on a good day but he always says the right thing to Tank. I ponder what to send back as a message and finally hit on the right thing.

_This bad ass does not wear PINK_.

I roll over and get comfortable. Minutes later, the phone beeps again four times in a row.

_Neither does this one._ From Tank, Lester, Bobby, and Ranger.

* * *

**Ranger's POV—Dover, DE 6:30 p.m.**

_Buzzzzzzzzzzzzz._

I hit the button to stop the vibration and resume my position against the wall. I look like any other wino, half passed out against the wall, complete with bottle in brown paper bag, but my Colt 45 is filled with water. I can't wait to go take a shower. Pissy clothes? Dirt on the face and under the nails? Badly shorn wig and blacked out teeth? I feel itchy. Cleanliness is **such** a virtue.

I'm watching two gangbangers right now. MS-13. The machete is hidden behind the dumpster …or at least it was. I shuffled over and stumbled, pretending to be drunk, and carefully tossed it inside the dumpster about 15 minutes ago. I don't want to watch a murder tonight. I already know who this idiot is that was scheduled to die and I'm ready to save his worthless life. I shuffled across the street after removing the murder weapon and I'm sitting right within sight.

The glasses have a camera, and I was able to plant a microphone near them during my little alcoholic stumblings. They hit me but otherwise? I'm a wino. They left me alone.

"_Yo. There he is."_

The agent steps out of the cab and nods. They direct him into the alley, out of sight of most everyone. I can still see. Once there, they exchange intel and he asks about his payment. They grin and start beating the shit out of him. This is a vicious beating so I send the already prepped text to Hector. He'll call in an anonymous citizens' report to the cops so they'll respond and save this jackass's life. I can't stop this part and, hell, he's earned it. Johnathon Coston, 26, from Dover. Delaware Gang Task Force. Dirty. He's hip deep, connected to Mason and Jackson. I need Morelli to dig up the information I need fast. Knox is tied into this up to his neck.

Tonight's intel? I'm still considered a possible. The feds don't believe I'm here but MS-13 does. Their gang members overseas haven't heard any rumors about me being in Pakistan, so they're questioning it. I'll have to go to ground for a while. That's why I can't intervene to save Coston's life. It would confirm that I'm stateside unless I'm prepared to kill all three. Nope. Coston's just going to have to accept this beating and hope for the best.

The kid is reaching for the machete when he realizes it's not there anymore. He starts looking around for it and realizes it's gone.

"_The fucking wino. He's the only one that's been nearby."_

"_So let's fuck him up too."_

They stab Coston repeatedly. OK, switchblades. I'm glad I watched. They slit his throat but they do it wrong. They pulled his head back, so his carotid should be fine. Windpipe might not be but at least he won't bleed out in seconds. They kick Coston once more and leave him alone. Good. I hear sirens in the distance. They're getting close. The little thugs head for me. I get up and stumble/walk into the alley, out of sight of the street.

"_Yo! Man, you got something of ours?"_

"_Nope,"_ I reply belligerently, swigging my water.

They come closer. "_We think you do. We think you took something that don't belong to you_."

"_Prove it._"

Their eyes widen and they rush me. I clock one over the head with the bottle and kick the other in the stomach. The mouthy one pulls that switchblade and I smirk. I pull my blades and watch him pale.

It's a short fight. No need to elaborate. They're unconscious, bleeding profusely, and black and blue by the time I'm done. Quick taps to the temples and they'll be lucky to remember their own names. I remove the IDs from both and drag them into the alley. I remove my 'wino' clothes and step into a jogging suit. Baby wipes to remove the dirt, switch the wig, and I douse myself with water so it looks like I've just been jogging. That'll somewhat explain the smell. It's hard to explain why a grown man smells like piss, so I can always say a wino tossed a beer bottle in my direction. I use a Wisp to remove the blacking from my teeth. I pick up the duffel bag and take a quick look in the mirror. Good. The lightweight fabric face mask altering my appearance is still in place too. I don't look like Ranger. I look like any other fat jogger on a Monday night.

I exit the alley to the sight of EMTs loading Coston into the ambulance. I stop, like everyone else on the street, and pretend to gape. The codes they're calling sound as if the idiot may be bleeding out. They did hit his kidneys pretty hard. I hope I sent the text to save his life in time. I watch the police comb the area, searching for clues, and head back to my POS. I'm still listening to the audio. They figured out the agent's identity and they start a canvass of the area but it's useless. I'm the only witness and I'm long gone, headed back at the hotel to truly clean up.

Thirty minutes later, they find the gang bangers in the alley. I listen to the codes. They're calling for ambulances to transport them. I left them with serious internal bleeding and they're touch and go. No ID, no idea who they are. The cops are stymied. Martinez, a member of my task force, shows up in his consultant role. He's good. He listens more than he talks and his work has been solid. Coston is his objective and it will be number three for him if he can manage it.

I continue to listen while packing up my hotel room and preparing to check out. I have a hot lead in the Bronx to check out so I'll overnight in NYC and then hit Trenton. I wonder if Babe is still on 7. I miss her and I want to try to see her before heading to Philly. I tune back into the audio. The cops are still walking the scene, but they've moved away from my microphone so I can go retrieve it. I situate the fabric mask back over my face, use the makeup to blend it in, and leave.

I check my phone before hitting the Jersey Turnpike (Manny. SitRep: Everything's fine.) and I'm in a zone for the next three hours. Finally, I pull into the garage at RangeMan NYC and scramble the cameras. I grab my bags and hit the stairwell when I feel the phone buzz again. _Shit!_ I open the text.

Lucky fucker! I hit Les's apartment grinning ear to ear. I'm happy for my partner and closest brother. Lula's the right woman for him and she loves him. I'm sure Mrs. Carol Jean is in seventh heaven now. I decide to answer this one.

_Your woman's hand needs an exercise plan__._

I text Hector that I need to meet with him in the morning.

I hear a commotion from the bathroom. Les and Steph.

"_You're naked."_

"_I have a towel on."_

_WTF!_

_Buzzzzzzzzzzzzz._ I check.

_I can't wait to watch you go down._


	14. The Housekeepers' War, Part III

**The Housekeepers' War, Part III—Atlanta, Part I**

**Rose's POV**

I've been waiting at Miami International for 20 minutes. This is unacceptable. I've called the Miami office twice since landing and been told that my escort is on his way. My husband, Chris, is quietly furious on the phone. Finally, I walk out the building and run directly into a familiar face.

"You're a RangeMan, aren't you?"

He nods. "I'm Armando, the XO. I was just informed you were here and since I was close by, I swung by. I'm sorry that your escort hasn't arrived, and I apologize for that. Can I take your bags?"

I look at him suspiciously. That sounds like bullshit to me, but I hand him the bags. He escorts me to the waiting SUV and tucks my bag in the back. He climbs into the driver's seat before he realizes that I'm still waiting outside.

I'm a lady. I don't open my own doors.

He reddens and quickly comes around to open my door. "Sorry. That was rude of me." I simply nod and climb in.

As we pull off, another large black SUV pulls up and honks. Armando looks in the rearview and grimaces.

"Better me than him." I look over and he looks at me. "Your escort just arrived. The head of bodyguard services." Ah, the infamous Antonio. I can't wait to meet him.

Armando clears the airport and exhales. He looks over at me. "Well, welcome to Miami, Mrs. Taylor. Let me tell you about the office and the men." He gives me a quick rundown of the office, and I notice that the light on the dash is blinking. I nod at it and he nods. He's aware someone is listening.

"So, I think that covers everything. Any questions I can answer for you?"

"No, I think I have it covered, but I do need to know if grocery procedures here are the same as Atlanta."

He blinks. "Grocery procedures?"

I shrug. "Who is my escort when I go shopping, how many men usually volunteer, etc. You don't have grocery procedures?"

He shakes his head, confused. "No, we don't."

Oh, po' little tink tink. Ya'll gon' be fucked up messin' with me.

* * *

I've reviewed the pantry and Maria's standard meals, and I'm astonished. These men are idiots and there's no way I'm cooking this stuff, but I decide to play along and see if they would try to run the same game on me that they tried on Ella.

They try. I turn it around on them.

"Hello! I'm Antonio and welcome to RangeMan Miami."

"Hello. I'm Rose Taylor."

It's a welcoming committee of five men and they all smile cautiously at me. "Well, Mrs. Taylor, we're thrilled to have you here in house at RangeMan Miami for . . . how long are you here?"

Emotionless stare.

They look at each other. "OK," Antonio says slowly, "are you also on vacation?"

Emotionless stare. Why I'm here is none of your business, young man. You delayed picking me up at the airport so you're already on my shit list. Don't make your situation worse.

Antonio looks as if he might want to try to make this a competition, but he soon comes to his senses. "Well, uh, great. We can't wait to see what culinary delights you have in store for us. We thought we'd give you a list of our dietary requirements and the standard meal plans here, if you think it would be helpful, but it's entirely up to you. Also, we have lists of our favorite meals and snacks and what we require of Maria."

This little exchange didn't go so well with Ella so they're being very careful. They're also very tense, which amuses me. I smile at them and they relax. "I've spoken to Ella and Maria, but I'll take a look at your suggestions. Mind you, I'm going to treat them as suggestions. Now, what are the grocery procedures?"

Antonio raised an eyebrow. "The what?" I repeat the question. "Unneeded and unnecessary here."

I blink. Well, if that isn't a 'Fuck You'. "OK. Do you have any questions for me?" They shake their heads, smiling. Fools. "Well, I'll get started."

"We appreciate that. Thank you." He motions to the other men and they all walk out the kitchen.

I review the lists and laugh. They've presented me with full menus, day by day, with all snacks and treats. Not happening, men, not happening.

Then I get a brainwave and smile.

OK. I'll give you exactly what you asked for.

* * *

Day one. Hmm … the boys wanted _huevos rancheros_ and orange juice for breakfast. OK. Calorie count? About 600-750 because none of them has a sense of portion size.

OK.

I put out breakfast. A tomato salsa, Egg Beaters, and water. Calorie count? About 150-200. Nothing fried, no tortillas, no coffee.

They ate the hell out of it. Good. Step into the trap, boys. Lunch followed the same pattern. I took their requests, modified them to something healthy, and smiled at the praise.

Day Three? I sat a tray of modified _papas rellenas_ out. The retching and complaints were amusing and I'm just getting started. By day five they're furious and glaring at me. I wonder how long it will take them to confront me. No need to wonder. Day five at lunch, I get a visitor to the prep area. I'm ready for him.

"Mrs. Taylor?"

I turned around. Antonio. Just who I **wanted** to see.

"Yes, Antonio?" I can see he's choosing his words carefully and I'm trying not to smile.

"Well, I'm here on behalf of the men and their concerns."

Armando walks into the room in the middle of that sentence. He stops, rolls his eyes, shakes his head and chuckles. He grabs a banana and yogurt and walks out quickly.

I smile. "I'm listening."

"Well, we really appreciate the effort that you're putting into the meals here, but I'm afraid it's not quite meeting standards."

"Oh? Do tell." I'm amused and take a seat. "I've been careful to ensure everything's well within standards, but please, tell me where I'm failing."

He smells a trap but he doesn't know where it is. We're joined by the 'committee'. Ignacio, Pedro, Juan, and Braulio. I can see Mario and Deuce watching carefully from the doorway.

"Well, take these _papas rellenas_ for example." He picks one up and it falls apart in his hand . . . I might have undercooked this particular batch. "Well, this is still soft, so it wasn't fried long enough. Yesterday they were overcooked. The empanadas have a funny aftertaste." He shrugs. "It's just off."

I smile and motion for him to take a seat. He remains standing, towering over me. I'm not afraid or intimidated. I merely cross my legs and tap my pen. "And do you know why all of it is off?" He looks at me suspiciously. "Because I've been cooking all of it in vegetable oil. The _papas rellenas_ are fried in vegetable oil and they are not my cuisine," I give a one-shoulder shrug "so it's hard to judge when they're done. You men presented me with a list of meals you wanted. Since you chose to attempt to dictate to me what I should serve, I decided to try to make all of you happy by cooking lighter versions of those dishes instead of cooking the meals I excel in."

All smiles drop. They see the trap now.

"So, I've made some changes. The _papas rellenas_ contain turkey and they're wrapped in mashed cauliflower. Quite difficult to deep fry mashed cauliflower, so it's a balancing act."

Eyes are widening.

"I tossed all the lard I saw and bought Crisco to make the empanada pastry. Crisco is a lot of things, but it ain't lard. The shrimp skewers I wanted to make, well, since you find grocery procedures unneeded and unnecessary, the shrimp went bad in the back of the car in this heat."

Lots of throat clearing and hard swallowing. Hehehe. The looks of disgust on their faces when I returned with 15 pounds of bad seafood in the back of the car were just priceless. I simply smiled, handed them the keys and reminded them the car needed to be cleaned thoroughly before I did another grocery run.

"That's why the men have a car to detail. In short, I'm trying to give you exactly what you asked for and, since I purchased the food to meet your requests, I don't intend to change course now. You men can enjoy it."

I stand and smile indulgently at them. "By the way, Ignacio?" He looks at me. "I don't do laundry. If you'd had the courtesy to ask me about my laundry procedure, you'd know that. You'll never ask me again, I promise you."

* * *

**Ella's POV**

I'm dying of laughter. Luis is clutching his chest in tears. Chris, Rose's husband, hasn't stopped laughing yet. Rose is a stitch.

"Honey, they are **begging** me to cook what I want, do you hear me? **Begging!**"

"_Coliflor_ _rellenas_," I gasp, laughing.

"Whatever you call them, they're in tears. They can't eat it so now they have to eat the yogurt and fruit, except I haven't been buying enough. Of course, when I'm asked, I point out that I'm buying based on historical amounts in this office. Rock meet hard place."

I'm mean. Rose is vindictive. She's ruining their favorite meals on purpose in her attempts to 'lighten' them.

"Do you know one of them had the nerve to come in the kitchen today and try to teach me how to fry?"

"NO!" I gasp. "How did that go over?"

"Like a Nazi at a Black Muslim meeting, I'm sure," Chris says. Chris knows his wife very well. Rose can fry anything she's given, no matter what.

Luis walks out and returns with two Tylenol and a glass of water for me. I should have sent Rose first. She's conducting psychological warfare.

"I looked that child in his eyes, thanked him for his assistance, and took off to the grocery store. By dinner time I had my preferred meal going. Baked chicken with brown rice, edamame succotash, iced tea, and a light cheesecake. So of course, they come in sniffin', trying to find the goodie, and I run 'em all out the kitchen. I served that meal to Armando, Shane and Thomas and cleaned up the kitchen. Left them with something called _Boliche_—"

"NO! You did not ruin a _Boliche_?" Luis says, astonished. That's hilarious.

"Oh yes sir, I did. Turkey kielbasa, 'forgot' the olives and used half the normal amount of garlic, wrapped it in a pork loin, nothing on that dish was right."

I can imagine. It sounds horrid. But if you were going to lighten the dish, that's going about it the right way. Well, if you know **nothing** about Cuban cuisine. "_Boliche_ is made with beef."

"Whoops. Damn shame I'm not Cuban. If they want Cuban food, don't ask the black woman to cook it."

Luis is rolling on the floor in laughter. I'm massaging the back of my neck. Oh god, this is hilarious.

"I think that by the time I'm done, they won't mess with Lucia."

"Shame. Lucia is looking forward to it. By the way, where are you?"

"The beach. I remembered what you said about the apartment being bugged so I don't do anything there except sleep and watch TV. Otherwise I'm out and about. OH! I didn't tell you that Ignacio tried to drop off a load of laundry, did I?"

"Lord help," Chris mutters. "Do they know you don't do my laundry? Or Atlanta's"

"They won't ask me again."

I'm wiping tears from my eyes. "Why?"

"Damn shame I mixed up the regular bleach with the color safe stuff. Not clearly labeled, you know. All his boxers are very interesting colors now."

I have a headache from laughing. "Maria is very careful to label correctly."

"I'm sure she is, but since they treat RangeMan like a Laundromat, they'd replaced the bleach but not labeled it correctly."

I shake my head. I wish I'd taped this call.

"Only Armando, Shane and Thomas are coming out of this clean. They've been respectful. Everyone else, well, crapshoot. Some of the men are getting the point, but they're lumped in with the bad, so that's that."

"No, that's perfect. I don't expect every man to let go of his sexism overnight, but the ones who straighten up need to have the courage to call out the men who are still disrespectful. Until they all straighten up, they all suffer."

"You know what's been the most eye opening part of this entire experience?" Rose says, a little quietly and seriously. We all calm down.

"What?"

"The fact that at no point did those men ever give me the courtesy of asking me about my standard procedures. They never asked about my laundry procedures and they ignored the grocery procedures question. They simply took it for granted that I would do exactly as they pleased."

* * *

**Rose's POV**

"Ms. Rose?" Armando. He's been enjoying this, and I've actually enjoyed working with him. He's polite and respectful and helpful. It's clear that the attitude of the men pisses him off, and he's quick to ignore all complaints, telling the men that the housekeeper knows the dietary restrictions and requirements best. He's in no position to challenge me in the kitchen.

"Yes, Armando?"

"The men would like you to attend our staff meeting, if you don't mind."

I grin. "Of course not. Delighted to do so."

We walk to the conference room and I take Maria's seat at the end of the table. My seat in Atlanta is next to the liaison. I place my memo pad in front of me and watch everyone else file in. Once everyone is seated, we begin the meeting. It's routine until we get to my report. I report that there have been no real changes in the housekeeper's routine and no building maintenance upcoming. I see rolled eyes during my report.

"Any questions?" Armando says, hiding a smile.

"Yes, I have a question," Juan says coldly. He turns to me. "Rose—"

"Ms. Rose."

He stares at me, but I merely stare back. "If you gave me a reason to respect you, I might give you the title."

"Mats. 1700. One hour," Armando says, seething. I hold up a hand to Armando, who nods, jaw clenched, then turn back to Juan.

"Fine. If you want to play that game, what is your question, Jackass?" There's an audible intake of breath at the table. Juan looks stunned. "What? I'm not Maria. I made it clear that I'm to be referred to a **Mrs. Taylor** or **Ms. Rose**. I am your housekeeper and due the respect of the position. I will cuss your dumb ass out any time, any place, but I'll do that offline, outside the building. If you can't give me the respect I deserve inside this building, I can certainly match you tit for tat."

There's silence in the room.

"Keep it up. You don't want to see my non-preferred personality. She's a bitch," I smile and sit back. "Inside this building, I'm calm and professional. I do my job and do it well, and if the next words outta your mouth were going to be telling me how to do my job, you better show me your degrees and years of experience first. Otherwise, keep your trap closed."

"Fine," Juan says coldly. "Let's start discussing the things that don't require a degree or years of experience. The floors haven't been mopped. The windows haven't been cleaned. The—"

"Not my job," I state. Every eye widens. "My instructions from Ella were to come here and do **my** normal duties for two weeks. Not Maria's. I don't do floors in Atlanta. I don't do windows. I largely don't do housework. That's Joe's duty and he does it well. I don't do laundry, as Ignacio well knows." I turn and incline my head at Ignacio, who looks furious. "This, gentlemen, is your fault. You never asked me about my routines. You simply attempted to dictate to me what I should feed you. So I'm feeding you lightened versions of that cuisine. Isn't that right, Antonio?"

Stony silence.

"You're getting exactly what you asked for. Lightened cuisine and nothing more because you didn't respect me enough to treat me as an equal." I stare at each one. Mando's hiding a smile. "I'm no one's maid. And if you keep it up, you'll find yourselves in a world of hurt."

* * *

I didn't expect to get away with this for long. I figured five days. Maybe a week. I would cook my normal cuisine the last three days, so they could see what they could have had, if they'd kept their mouths shut.

Day Nine saw me in the prep area, trying to determine how to ruin a ham croquette, when I heard the door close. Ah, Mario, head of Bonds Enforcement here. He's not so bad, and I can tell he's getting irritated with Antonio and Ignacio.

"Ms. Rose?" He waits, standing. Humph. Momma may have raised this one right. I motion for him to sit and close the binder.

"How can I help you, Mario?"

He takes a deep breath. "I'm not here on behalf of anyone besides me and my stomach. I want to know what it will take to get the cuisine we're used to."

I look at him coolly. He's nervous but determined.

"What did Ella tell you?" His shoulders slump. "Exactly. The cuisine around here is changing to the standard RangeMan diet."

"Then what's this been about? You ruining all our favorite foods?"

"Mario, what's your background?"

He looks confused. "I'm a former Army specialist. Infantry."

"Skilled at running, shooting, finding men?" He nods. "Have I attempted, in any way, to tell you how to do your job?" Head shake. "Then why did Miami feel it necessary to attempt to dictate to me how to do my job?"

He's quiet.

"What do you know of my background? Nothing? Well, my background is in food service. I spent years as the head of special events for a major hotel in Atlanta. I spent years juggling hundreds of different dietary needs, ensuring quality and freshness. That's why I have the Atlanta branch. In one branch you have vegetarians, vegans, one man with celiac disease, and six with food allergies. Some can't eat shellfish and others can't eat tomatoes. Three have diabetes and 12 are lactose intolerant or sensitive." I sit back and stare coldly. "I juggle all that on a daily basis, and I've never once had a complaint about my food."

"Sounds like hell," he says with a small smile.

I laugh. "Baby, sometimes I wanna cuss 'em out, but I respect their situations and feelings. For some, the dietary restrictions are religious or moral. For others, the doctors have determined they have a problem. In any case, it's not my job to try to change their minds or disrespect them. I merely accommodate. That's also the reason I don't have housework in Atlanta. Juggling that many dietary needs is a full-time job. I don't have time to do anything else."

He nods. I can see he's thinking about this.

"I'm ruining your favorite dishes because I'm showing you what it would taste like if Ella allowed Maria to serve this cuisine but forced her to modify it to RangeMan standards. Everything I've served you has been within the standards. Not enjoyable, is it?"

He grimaces and shakes his head. "Disgusting, more like."

I laugh. "So, you tell me, you want this on an everyday basis? Or you wanna try the normal diet?"

He blinks and smiles. "I'd like to see what the normal diet tastes like."

I nod. "I plan to cook it. Everything I normally cook in Atlanta. Trouble is I heard you men lost your housekeeper?" His jaw clenches. "Umm hmm. We know. Here's what **you** need to know." I look him dead in the eyes, completely serious. "If you men want your housekeeper back, prepare to make changes. Prepare to **respect** the power of the woman wielding the mixing spoon. Respect the power of the woman pushing the vacuum." I stand and cross my arms. "You know how powerful I am?"

His eyes are wide.

"I could poison each and every man in this office if I wanted to. Just for pissing me off. Just for the disrespect you've shown Maria. That's my power. I can kill you with a smile on my face."


	15. The Housekeepers' War, Part IV

**The Housekeepers' War, Part III—Atlanta, Part II**

**Maria's POV**

I'm beginning to see, more and more, that I'm not treated fairly at RangeMan Miami and I wonder how I allowed it to happen. More importantly, how am I going to fix it?

The Atlanta men are sweethearts. Again, I'm picked up at the airport by the XO and the strategist, Danny and Chase. Danny is an incredibly handsome man and Chase is pretty good looking too. Problem is, standing next to Danny, he looks somewhat ordinary, but he reminds me so much of Bobby. Same dimples, same beautiful brown eyes, same impish grin.

"Hello, Ms. Maria!" Danny says. He kisses my hand and steps back to allow Chase to do the same. I'm star struck by the attention.

"We understand that you are coming to take care of us for two weeks," Chase says. I nod. "Well, we'll give you the rundown of the office and the men, but I'll tell you now that whatever standards were in place in Trenton will probably be in place here in Atlanta."

Danny grins. "We've taken Trenton on as our model for a lot of things and how to treat the housekeeper was among those topics. I left Trenton after the CO's skip tracing workshop feeling as if I'd steal Ella if I wasn't absolutely sure the Trenton men would shoot me before I got out the door with her."

I laugh, the first belly laugh I've had in a while. It feels good.

"We adore our Rose and we're ready to adore you too. Just let the men know what you need and want and we'll be happy to assist," Chase adds, smiling. They fill me in on office procedure (they have the same grocery procedures! I'm flabbergasted.) and ask me if there is anything special that I do that they need to accommodate. I can't think of anything. We arrive at the Atlanta building and they carry my bags up to the ninth floor and allow me to settle in.

Danny explains that Rose doesn't really use her apartment because she's married to a teacher, so they reserve the space for visitors. The apartment is very nice, very classy, and they have the AC running when I step in. It's cool and comfortable and, after giving me the lowdown on the intercom system and leaving their phone numbers, they leave me in peace.

Rose has left her binder in here, but I see a note taped to the DVD remote. _Play me first!_ I click 'Play' and I'm startled to hear Rose's voice behind me. "Are you sure this fool thing is on?" Rose looks annoyed then smiles directly at the camera. "Hey Maria! Girl, I hope my men are treating you right and if they aren't, you let me know. I'm more than willing to cuss them out from 500 miles away." I love Rose. She's completely direct.

"Look, my binder should be right in front of you on the table, but let me give you the quick rundown. Better yet, I know you. Pause this tape, take off your bra, go grab some water and get comfortable."

I giggle uncontrollably, but I follow directions. I unpack, take a shower, and get comfortable. Once I'm braless and have a big glass of water, I restart the tape.

"You comfy? Good. Alright, let me give you the lay of the land. One, I don't do personal laundry. Don't start no precedent with them men that they're going to expect me to keep up. I know you. I know you love to please, but I'm telling you **I don't do laundry**. Don't offer and don't accept. If their clothes are that bad, they know where the washer and dryer is."

I make a note. This must be the only self-serve laundry location.

"I do iron and press suits for Leadership only. Ask Danny for an org chart because this is a big branch with a lot of leaders. I left a org chart, but I'm not sure if it's current. Ask him which ones qualify for laundry service and you can iron and press for them alone. None others."

Rose is a hoot. I pause the tape and pull out the org chart. I attach a sticky note to find out if this is current and who qualifies for press n fold.

"Second, I make three squares a day plus snacks, so you and I are alike there, but my three squares are mostly vegetable-based in the summer. Take a look in my binder and you'll see that I sauté and steam a lot of vegetables and serve grains there. I'm not braising big hunks of meat all the time. I do a lot of vegetarian options and those men are learning to like tofu, so don't be afraid to serve it."

I laugh. Sounds like Ella.

"You really wanna have fun cooking but **not** cooking? Marinate some meat and vegetables and merely _hint_ that you plan to grill." Rose laughs. "I don't know what it is about open flames, but the caveman instinct in those boys comes out full force! You can relax for the rest of the day. They'll cook for themselves." She grins. "I choose the hottest day of the week every two weeks and let it out that I plan to grill. Then I make plans to get out and see the city."

I pause the tape to laugh. OK, so I need to plan for a grill day or two. I want to see this.

"Third, it's about time for my semi-annual meat haul. What that means is I have contracts with local suppliers to obtain entire sides of beef, pork, chickens, you name it, I buy it. Coordinate with Max, Maxwell, on that. He's got wicked knife skills and he'll lead the brigade. All you need to do is pay for it and tell them how many steaks, chops, etc, you need. The list is in the folder. The men have taken classes in butchery. All you need do is direct the brigade. Trust me."

I pause the tape and open her binder. I find the contracts inside. OK, so we're buying the equivalent of 4 cows, 6 lambs plus parts, 20 pigs, 100 chickens, 25 turkeys . . . Lord help, where does she put all this? I make a note to go investigate.

"Finally, enjoy your stay. My men should treat you right, but if you aren't being treated fairly, bring it up with Danny immediately. He doesn't tolerate disrespect of leadership and you count. Quick to term it insubordination and the men do mat time for it. Get out, explore Atlanta, and have fun. Oh, I told my husband to give you a call and take you out. Don't worry about him coming on to you. He fears me." She winks at the camera and I laugh.

Rose. No one like her.

* * *

I head down to the fourth floor and check out the kitchen. Rose's kitchen is set up similarly to mine and I feel completely at home. Rose has a massive walk-in and two additional freezer spaces. I also find the laundry area. There are two RangeMen already in the laundry.

"Hello!"

They turn around and smile. "Hello. Are you Ms. Maria?"

"Yes, I'm Maria," I reply. They are both looking at the bleach stations curiously. "Do you need help?"

The two men look at each other. I want to see how they respond. My Miami boys would leave me with their laundry. Rose was clear she doesn't do laundry.

"Well, yes," one replies. "I'm Josh, by the way." He shakes my hand then lifts a white shirt which has what appears to be a ketchup stain. "I need to wash this and I forgot what Ms. Rose told me. I'm sure she told me to pretreat, then wash, but I'm not sure what to pretreat with." He pulls the Shout! Spray and the Resolve Max stick. "Can you tell me which one to use?"

"Ah. The _Shout!_ Spray is a gel. You should spray the stain well. It is ketchup, right?" He nods. "Yes, turn the shirt inside out, spray the stain well, use the shirt to rub the gel in, leave it for about 30 minutes, then you can wash it as usual. Use the other to pretreat if you aren't going to wash the shirt immediately."

"Great!" He pokes the other RangeMan. "See? Told you she might help." He turns to me and smiles. "Ms. Rose is clear about the fact that she doesn't do laundry, but she will advise." I giggle and they smile. "Yeah, she said if she runs into 'one more grown-ass man who can't do his own damn laundry, she's gonna scream! We gon' learn how to do our own laundry round here'."

He's mimicking Rose, and he sounds so much like her that I giggle harder. I can just imagine her saying that and it explains the self-serve laundry. She's teaching them to do their laundry correctly.

Josh grins. "I'm glad to meet you, Ms. Maria, and thank you for the help."

"Thank you for the laugh. I needed it." I wave and head back to the kitchen. My cheeks hurt. Inside the kitchen is a handsome young black man with long dreads. He smiles.

"Ms. Maria?" I nod. "Great. I'm Max. Welcome to Atlanta. Ms. Rose told me to look for you."

"Right! You're going to help me with the meat run, right?" I'm trying to remember what was in the folder.

"Right. Now, I don't mean to misstep, but I got a call today from our beef supplier and he said he would be ready for us tomorrow, so I told him we would come only because he doesn't know you. So, I need to know if that's OK with you. If not, I'll call him back and let him know that we need to move the day."

The men in the laundry room didn't try to take advantage of my probable ignorance, and Max wants to ensure that the plans he's tentatively made are OK with me. I'm making a list of the behaviors that my boys are going to have to change in order for me to go home. Top of the list: consideration and respect.

"That sounds fine to me. What's the procedure?"

"You know how to butcher?" he asks. I make a face and he smiles. His smile is more beautiful than Vince's. "I'll take that to mean no. OK, well, do you have Ms. Rose's folder?"

"It's upstairs."

"Well, I think it would be good to have it while I walk you through this. I'll fetch it or wait here while you grab it."

I motion for him to stay and go grab the binder. I return and Max is seated at the table.

"OK, so somewhere in there you'll find Ms. Rose's list of cuts from last year. We ordered slightly more beef this year, because Ms. Rose did a lot of stews last year and those were really popular. Last year we landed contracts in a few tight negotiations from businessmen who came to headquarters to negotiate and smelled lunch."

He grins and I'm surprised. "So, Rose's cooking directly contributed to your landing contracts?"

He nods. "Oh yeah. We can attribute about $500,000 to her last year. That was a nice chunk of change, believe me. It's why Danny upped her meat budget this year. If he could pipe the smell of Ms. Rose's meals through this building when we're in a tight negotiation, I think he would."

I laugh and make a mental note to find out if my cooking has ever led to our landing contracts in Miami.

* * *

Meat day is a big event in Atlanta. I look around the gathering of 25 men in my room, all armed with cleavers, knives, and axes, and smile. I'm not sure what to do. This is Rose's event, not mine.

Max walks over and hugs me. He whispers in my ear, "Be Ms. Rose. Be fearless. You know what you need. Tell us and let us organize. You're the general. You just have to make sure the show is running." He pats my back and stands back.

Be Rose.

Be fearless.

Don't be a potty mouth. The thought makes me grin.

"OK men, listen up." Last part was unnecessary. The moment I spoke they all came to attention. "I have a list of the cuts that I need and the animals we're buying. Divide yourselves up into groups. I think we're going to the beef and pork supplier today, right Max?" I look at him and hope for guidance.

He nods. "And lamb."

"Right. So, here's the sheets," I pass around the individual sheets, "and once you're ready, we'll go."

The men quickly divide themselves up. Four more RangeMen walk in and Josh walks over. "Ms. Maria, we hear you have Wüsthofs." The men whistle and smile and I say a quick prayer for Armand's soul. "Do they need sharpening?"

I smile. "Yes! The Trenton men got me a rasp and I haven't had a chance to use it yet. I'm so afraid of ruining my knives."

The mention of the Trenton boys gets boos and I look around in confusion. The men smile. "Rivalry with Trenton. They bought you a rasp?" Josh asks. I nod. "Cheapos. Should've gotten you a knife."

I smile. "They did, for my birthday. They replaced my Chef's knife, the first knife my husband ever bought me."

I see significant looks being passed around. "OK. Well, if you leave your knives, we'll sharpen them and we'll give you a lesson on how to sharpen a blade."

That sounds great, so I run and grab my knives from upstairs. I've treated them well over the years and each one has its own guard. The men examine them, smiling.

"Each one has its own guard?" Josh asks. I nod. "Nice. No case?"

I shook my head. "It was the last item on Armand's list." I smile sadly. My husband was a prince among men.

The men smile. "OK, we'll handle your babies with care. Time to suit up and bring us meat!" The men make caveman noises and I laugh. That sounds more like my Miami boys!

* * *

After confirming each animal with the supplier there wasn't much more for me to do. The men drive to a special building where the butchery takes place. Max had explained that my job was to a) check off each man's cuts as acceptable and b) ensure we ended up with Rose's minimum. If we managed to get more cuts than expected, great. Any odds and ends would be ground into ground beef and I could make sausage or leave it for Rose.

I think I'll leave that for Rose, but I'd like to come back and watch her do it in the fall.

The next few hours are interesting. The men make quick work of breaking down those animals and we get more than the minimum cuts in everything. We end up with enough odds and ends for about 100 pounds of sausage and ground beef. The men are thrilled.

I get the shock of my life when we get back to the building. The Atlanta men had purchased a 17-pocket knife case and had my initials embroidered on it. Danny and his men stand back and watch me stare at it.

"Ms. Maria?" Danny whispers, but I shake my head. I need a moment. I can almost feel Armand standing next to me, squeezing me and reminding me that I am loved.

"Thank you," I whisper. "I've never felt my late husband so clearly as I just did a moment ago."

The RangeMen shuffle and smile. I can hear a few clear their throats. Finally I turn around but I can't lift my face. I'm overcome, and I feel Danny press a handkerchief into my hand.

"Umm …Ms. Maria?" I look over at Josh. "Umm …we don't have any women or chocolate here to help make you feel better. What would Miami do?"

Good question. They generally just look uncomfortable and shuffle until I pull myself together.

Danny snorts. "OK, what would Trenton do?" he mutters.

That makes me laugh, and I laugh so hard I rock back into Danny. Finally, I look at all of them, wiping my face. "They would say, and I quote, "We're good with hankies and hugs, but we don't know what to do beyond that." Last time I cried in Trenton, they sent Stephanie after me. She's the only woman they had."

All the men look at each other and laugh. I have the hankie, so each man lines up to hug me.

* * *

I did as Rose suggested. I marinated some meat then told Max I planned to barbeque the next day. I walked in the next morning and found six RangeMen in my space.

"Ms. Maria, we hear you plan to barbeque?" Chase says. I nod, amused. Will this really work? "Well, no need to have you on the roof in this heat getting smoky. We'll help. We have experience." He turns to three men and they leave.

Rose was **not** wrong. I grin. "OK, well, I marinated plenty of meat and veggies, rubbed a few things, and jerked a few. I made a variety because I found some new rub recipes."

Max smiles. "You're using us as test subjects?" I nod. "Good. Blind tasting?" I can see the other RangeMen grin and poke each other.

"Yes. Just tell me which ones you enjoy most. Each different rub is labeled A-E." I move to the fridge and begin pulling meats. The men pull a cart over and begin loading it. "I just want to know how each man feels about those rubs."

The guys are grinning and poking each other. I prepped chicken (legs, breasts, wings, and thighs), flank steaks, brisket, ribs, and pork roasts. Also, tofu and portabella mushroom caps. Atlanta has a few vegetarians and vegans and Rose reminded me to ensure they could eat hearty with everyone else. The guys take the meat to the roof and I follow, curious. Turns out, the other three men had gone to the roof to start the grills. There were two gas grills and two charcoal grills on the roof, waiting.

I watch as the men divide themselves and set up to grill. Max leaves and returns with a cooler of drinks.

"I left a list of the drinks I pulled so they can be replaced at the next grocery run," he says.

Each RangeMan cycles up to the roof. The men make a quick grocery run of their own, because I walk downstairs to find them prepping more corn on the cob to go on the grill. Danny grins.

"Not enough corn, Ms. Maria. Believe me, you needed twice as much." I begin laughing. Yes, they grabbed corn, but they also had eggplant, zucchini, more onions, and asparagus. They also grabbed some fish and prepped fish for the grill.

It was a great day. The men turned it into a contest and I heard, from Danny, that Chase and Adam are considered the grill masters of the branch. They grilled those meats and veggies (and tofu!) to perfection and anyone who had family that could make it was allowed to come. It turned into a summer evening's party and everyone had a great time. **I** had a great time. The men and their wives and girlfriends thanked me for prepping the meals and the new smoky spicy rub, Rub C, was the winner. There was so much food that the guys told me they'd have the leftovers for lunch the next day. I decided to leave oatmeal for breakfast and do something light for dinner, like a few salads.

I sipped my drink and thought about how I would implement this in Miami. Atlanta has men who cook for themselves as long as I do the easy part. They do their own laundry as long as someone is willing to advise them on stain removal. They respect the housekeeper and I'm part of the management team.

Miami could learn.

* * *

**Ella's POV**

When I first started this little 'attitude adjustment', I wondered if it would even work. Between myself and Rose, we can see that affecting the Miami men's stomachs and refusing to do their laundry has had an impact. They're now very careful and respectful of how they speak to the housekeeper. During Rose's last three days there, she cooked her normal cuisine and the Miami men 'devoured it, honey. Plague of locusts. Didn't even leave crumbs', in her words.

The men are learning that to treat the housekeeper with respect leads to respectful service.

Rose told me she told Mario about her ability to poison them with a smile. She said she could tell he kept that to himself, but he started smiling and nodding at her every time he saw her. Luis and I laughed.

Given the success rate, I've decided to pull Lucia and Susan in. I decided to move Susan, from Boston, next. Susan is about the middle of all of us in temperament. She's not as fiery as me or Rose but not as laid back at Lucia. I've asked her to honestly respond to what they do. Punish as she feels necessary, reward as she feels necessary and it will serve as my gauge for moving Lucia in. Lucia is closest to Maria in temperament and if she feels respected there, then I can move Maria back. If not, we'll start this process all over again.

On the other front, I can tell that my plan is working on Maria quite well. Rose and Max are great friends, and he has reported to her that Maria is enjoying her stay in Atlanta and is starting to expect the better treatment.

"Relief, I tell you. Max sounded relieved. I told him to treat her with kid gloves, and he said that far from needing kid gloves she needed to be shown respect," Rose says. I'm smiling.

"So what did they do?"

"Well, first, the Atlanta boys know that I'm **Ms. Rose**, not Rose, and they applied that to her too. They call her **Ms. Maria**. They did the grocery run with her and said she cried because she thought it was a one off thing in Trenton. Max told her every location did the grocery run, that it was something we all picked up from you, and it showed her how out of the loop she was. Honey, sounds to me like the housekeepers need a monthly call. If we had one then maybe Maria would have known she was not being treated right long before now."

I write that down quickly as an idea to consider.

"Second, they bought her a knife case."

I gasp. "They didn't!"

"They did! They had it embroidered and everything. Said she cried like the world was gonna end. Apparently that was the last item on her husband's list and it made her feel as if he were there with her when she found it."

I sit back and smile, tears in my eyes. Luis looks at me and grasps my hands.

"Other than that, they simply thanked her for her meals and made sure she'd made plans to get out and have fun. Made sure she had access to a car and a good GPS and gave her a list of some things to do in Atlanta. Loaned her a digital camera and let her loose."

"Did she have a good time?"

Rose laughs. "She went all over the place! Found the foodie spots in Atlanta and went to some tastings, hit the Georgia Aquarium and the Mall of Georgia, went to a comedy show—"

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. Chris escorted her to that and said she laughed through the whole thing. Ella, she's had a blast. She did a grill day and the men told her not to bother cooking the next day because she prepped so much meat they had leftovers. She left some salads for them and they were a happy bunch. And my meat run went off like a charm! I think she'll probably ask to come assist when I make sausage in the fall. She seemed really interested. Max says she's been making copies of things in my binder to take home."

Hmm … Vince said the same thing. Perhaps Maria is starting to get the idea. I wonder if Stephanie has considered giving the housekeepers some space in the new RangeWorld, as it's been dubbed. We could swap recipes and digitize the binders there. I write this down as an idea to present to Stephanie at the next project meeting.

* * *

I hang up on Rose and sit back to reflect on everything I've learned in the past six weeks. As the Head Housekeeper, I've allowed each housekeeper the ability to do as she pleases in her domain, but I should have supported Maria more. Unlike every other housekeeper, Maria had no other outside support. Her husband is deceased and they didn't have any children, so her Miami boys were her boys. The men of Miami took complete advantage of that. There was nothing to set off a longstanding review of Maria or Miami to prompt this, except for Stephanie. Carlito's concerns about Stephanie's treatment in Miami prompted him to finally do **something** about it to protect her.

As usual, Stephanie has inadvertently uncovered a problem. We had a grieving widow being taken advantage of in Miami. Now we are allowing her to see how badly she has been treated by allowing her to see how the housekeeper is treated elsewhere in the company, and she is beginning to come into her own. Plus, each housekeeper is getting a sense of what Maria is going through. I wonder if Susan and Lucia will also have ideas about ways to improve housekeeping services for RangeMan. Rose's meat idea is an excellent one (she pays 30% less than I do!) and her idea about having a monthly call is one that I probably will implement, if for no other reason than to allow us to talk about cost-saving strategies.

Naming Stephanie as CO has had an effect on the housekeeping staff. I'll bet **no one** planned that one. I lean back and laugh.

My oh my, what will happen next?


	16. The Gossip Says

**A/N: Take note of the title . . . that's all I'm sayin'.**

* * *

**Chapter 49.5: The Gossip says . . .**

**Joe's POV**

After two months in Delaware, Mañoso's made arrangements for me to move to Charlotte. Same procedures as before: new name, new cards, new intel. My job is to get close to two agents, Harvey Mason and William Jackson. They're DEA agents connected to a former 'Inca' in Atlanta named Reynaldo Gomez. His intel says that they're using this guy to flip a drug kingpin in Miami, but they're calling in too many favors. The op is too well known so it's guaranteed not to work. After reviewing everything Mañoso has passed, I agree. It looks to be the biggest open secret in the government.

He needs to know what this op is really meant to catch. He doesn't think that they're working with MS-13, but they may be a front for someone who is and they're too stupid to realize it.

Interesting. A multi-layered sting. I'm glad my will is up to date.

My new partner for this op is Ana DiBardino. I'm waiting at the Waffle House (I love this place! A full fucking meal for under $10!) when an agent I recognize walks in.

I remember her. She was number two on my 'I'd fuck you if I were single' list in Fairfax. 5'8", curvy, and stacked. Thick black hair, light brown eyes, and a cute, pert nose. She looks Italian, but I can't tell because the nose is throwing me. I smile and she beams and walks over.

I'm wondering if Cupcake is thinking of me right now. I'm certainly thinking of her and I have the zipper print on my dick to show for it.

"Ana?"

"Eric?" I smile and motion for her to sit. I give her a few minutes to check out the menu and we order.

"So, what info do you have?"

"Not much." She frowns. "Aguilar hasn't spoken to me much about this stage of the op. He said you would take point; I should follow your lead."

Really? Mañoso trusts me that much? I think not. I think I better call him before I say shit to her.

"Well, I don't have much either, so I think we better start with getting acquainted with the area. Learn the highways and major roads. That's always the first thing I do." Lie. I review intel first, then decide what to do. If she really doesn't know anything, Mañoso may not trust her. If she does, she's holding back. Either way, I don't trust her yet.

We chit chat over the meal and leave, tipping handsomely. I love this op. The unlimited spending is a wonderful thing. We spend the next few hours riding around Charlotte in my vehicle, a Chrysler 300C with the HEMI motor. The POS for undercover is back at my apartment. I asked Mañoso why I had such a flashy car.

Silence, then, "One: you'll become associated with it, not the POS. People will expect to see you in it, so when you're out and about in the POS, you disappear. Two, your cover is as a consultant from a high priced company. You have to look the part."

Oh. I was cool with the car, but black? I'm not a RangeMan. He could've gotten blue or bronze or green. Anything but black. The color makes me feel as if I have his name tattooed on my ass.

* * *

"What's the deal with diBardino?"

Silence, then, "Explain."

"She says I'm running point and she has no intel. Doesn't sound like you, so I've shared nothing you've told me."

I start the timer on my watch. I'm certain one of these days I'll be able to take a piss between the time I ask the question and when he finally decides to answer. "She's correct. I've told her nothing and you are running point. Tell her the bare minimum."

WTF? "Wanna tell me why?" Silence. "I'm not one of your men, Mañoso. You can't hold back shit on me. I'm not going to scream it from the rooftops, but if you don't trust her I need to know why. I need to know why I need to be on my guard with her."

"_Glad you're with us tonight. We've got a gorgeous couple of days coming up . . . "_ Jesus, Reg Taylor will finish the entire weather forecast before Mañoso finally speaks.

"I'm unsatisfied with her work. She's successful, but not in the objectives. I need her to focus. You're a good agent, so I want you to assess her. Tell me what kind of agent she is. I trust your judgment here."

Now I know she's untrustworthy. If Mañoso trusts my judgment, she's got problems.

And I'm not ignorant of the fact that he just gave me the most unwilling compliment I've ever heard. 'I'm a good agent'. You're fucking right I am. I'm no novice at this. I know how to handle myself undercover.

Mañoso: Spanish for a slime bag (no, literally. I looked it up. Had a great laugh.). Also means cunning and crafty, but I prefer the first definition. Makes me feel a hell of a lot better.

* * *

I call my mother next. Time to hear the gossip.

"Ma?"

"Joey! How are you, baby? Are you OK? Staying safe?"

"I'm good, Ma. How's home?"

I spend the next 30 minutes hearing the usual. Carl had a date, Big Dog was in a cop-related shooting and is riding a desk, Gazarra is looking at a promotion, Angelina kicked Tony out again (Jesus! My brother and his wandering dick…), they made up again so Angelina is pregnant again (condoms! Come on! Condoms! Condoms!), Mom is praying that Cathy gets pregnant sometime soon, etc. The Burg hasn't changed.

I'm waiting on news of Cupcake.

"Ma?" The note in my voice tips her off.

"No, Joey. No requests for a trip to Italy yet."

I flop back on the bed. I won't lose hope. Maybe she's just waiting for me to come home.

"Well, how's she doing at work?"

"We don't know. We barely see her. What I do know is that Helen Plum has apparently given up on you."

I sit up, surprised. I doubt it. Helen knows how much I love Cupcake.

"What do you mean?"

"Apparently she and Edna got into it with Helen Restler at Giovichinni's a few weeks ago. Edna said she and Frank were throwing their lot over to that Ranger hood, but Helen wanted Stephanie to concentrate on work. She's hoping that being in charge of that thug's company will put her in front of other rich men." Momma sniffs. "I always thought that Stephanie was a hot little piece but really. She had and divorced Richard. Now she's fishing for a richer one? What's wrong with my boy? For God's sake, you love her and you're willing to ignore that insane job she thinks is a career."

My mother continues to grumble but I lie back on the bed, feeling like I just took one to the gut. Is that true? Is Steph looking for a more successful man? I mean, that would explain Mañoso. That fucker is clearly rich, but if she has a chance to meet other rich men over the year, maybe . . .

Has that been the problem? That I'm not successful enough?

The evidence would indicate it's a possibility. Dickie was clearly an up-and-comer when they married. The divorce ruined his prospects, but if he'd been able to keep it in his pants, he'd be rich as hell now. Mañoso is definitely rich. Getting a look at the Miami headquarters cemented that for me.

With both me and Mañoso out of the picture for a year, is it possible Steph might start dating someone else? Sleeping with someone else?

Would she marry someone else?

This news has completely ruined my night. I feel sick. Mañoso is enough. I can't handle fighting against anyone else. I get up and find my Maalox. I take a dose, just for old time's sake.

"I don't think that's possible, Ma. I mean, Helen Plum knows I love Steph. Maybe she's just trying to keep the gossip down."

Momma sniffs. "Well, your grandmother is having a fit. Apparently Edna doesn't fancy being related to us," she says in a snooty voice. "Bella's put it out that she doesn't like the idea of being related, even by marriage, to an 80-year old whore. It's started a senior citizens war."

I fall back on to the bed with a laugh. "You're kidding?"

"Nope. Edna fired back that Bella's being faithful to the memory of a man dead 50 years and not worth a damn alive. Bella's countered that Edna's legs were open for business before Harry was cold in the grave. It's tit for tat. Your grandmother is casting curses and evil eyes and Edna's threatening to spray her with holy water. It's ridiculous!"

I'm laughing over this. Two 80-year-old women are in a snit over my marrying Cupcake. This is insane.

After an hour, Momma and I finally disconnect. I lie back on the bed and think about what she's said tonight. I've been on this op now for four months. I think about Cupcake every day and I'm hoping she's doing a good job as 'Managing Director'. It's keeping her off the streets and giving her something new to do so maybe at the end of it, she'll be willing to consider a desk job. Maybe she won't be so willing to throw her life away. I hope so. I'm tired of watching the woman I love throw herself head first into danger.

I love Steph. I hope she's doing well. She hates to fail, so I'm sure she's fine. I wish I could pop in and check on her, but I'm sure Mañoso's tracking me. In any case, she's alive and safe. Mañoso's men are looking out for her.

"God, please don't let it be about the money. If it's about the money, I'll get a new job. But I want her to love me for me."

* * *

**Ranger's POV**

Morelli forgot to turn his wire off at the end of our call, so I listened in. The intel was amusing until he got to the part about Steph.

'Trip to Italy'? I text that info to Hector, ask him to remain on the lookout for that phrase. He responds that he won't spy on his partner for me. If I romance her, I have nothing to worry about.

Romance her? I'm fucking undercover! How in the hell am I supposed to romance her? Do I do it when I'm not being searched for? Do I do it when I'm not ducking through dangerous neighborhoods and shaking down drug dealers and crack heads for info? Shit, I'm trying to stay _alive_ for her and he wants me to _romance_ her? How about I survive this fucking assignment first! I've already used two of my new aliases and we're only four months in. The feds might believe I'm overseas, but the MS-13 leadership has different intel and they're _**hunting**_ my ass, just to make sure. I get the feeling I'll need to take a short assignment and be _**seen**_overseas immediately after this one, just to throw off the scent.

Besides, I can feel Hector's disapproval. It's disrespectful to ask a man to spy on his partner. Partners have to trust each other with their lives. If Babe ever found out that Hector betrayed her, even for me, she'd never trust him again. He won't chance it. I wouldn't if someone asked me to spy on Tank. I'd shoot the shit out of them first.

I text an apology, which is accepted 10 minutes later. Hector-speak for 'That was shitty of you'.

Worse is the info about Helen Plum. That makes my blood run cold. Is that what Helen is hoping for? That if Babe runs my company she'll find someone else? I hadn't considered that as a possibility and it's hard not to now. But as soon as I start wondering, I squelch it. Babe's not mercenary. If it were about the money, The Cop would have been a nonissue years ago. If it were about money, she wouldn't have kept my attention. One thing I can do is sniff out a gold digger. I've fucked enough of them, which is why Steph's interest was refreshing. She acknowledged my obvious wealth and comfort but it didn't impress her. I wasn't gonna fuck her by dangling keys in front of her face.

I have ample evidence of **that**.

Nah. That's a nonissue, but it's clear in The Cop's voice that he thinks it's an issue for him. Again, a sign of how little he understands her.

I text Hector, ask about her state of mind. Not good. She's been moody, difficult and unhappy since I left. She's been careful not to let the NYC men see that but Hector's seen it. Manny's seen it. She's unhappy. I was afraid of that. I call Hector and ask for Ella. I need to speak to her. Only she can help.

"Ella?"

"Hello. How can I help?"

"Are you prepared?"

"For Stephanie?"

"Yes."

"Yes, I'm prepared. I know what to do." She laughs. "The poor boys have no clue. I forget that the majority are single and the ones that aren't are confused. They haven't been on this side of the situation before. They don't understand."

Yeah, no man at Trenton is going to be prepared for it. I make a vow right then: No more popping up while on this op. She needs stability. My next appearance needs to involve a discussion about our relationship, not more sex. Hell, mentally she can't take it right now. That's clear. Ella is waiting on this. I'm waiting on this. I know it's coming.

Now, how in the fuck am I supposed to romance her when I'm not even supposed to be in the damn country?

* * *

**A/N: OK, I know I told a joke at Ranger's expense, but it's true. I looked up the meaning of Mañoso and one meaning (the first one to pop up on google) was hilarious and uncomfortably accurate. I figured it would be the meaning Joe would like the most. Type 'meaning of manoso' into google and see what you get. Tildes matter!**


	17. We Woo

**Side Story: We Woo**

**Hal's POV**

Conference 1 is completely silent. Every man in Trenton and Atlanta is thinking hard.

The CO cannot be allowed to get as wound up as she has been **ever again**.

We have to solve this problem.

Our only problem: We aren't women. They're a mystery. What do we do?

* * *

The scream from the 7th floor could be heard all the way on 1. Ram and I look at each other and hit the stairwell in seconds. We're just passing the 6th floor, pulling our keys, when Ella pops her head into the stairwell.

"**STAND DOWN!"**

Ella yelled. That shocks us enough to pause. Ella runs up the stairwell, which is rapidly filling with concerned and scared RangeMen.

"**Stand down, all of you!**" she repeats.

"But Ella, she screamed. We need to check for intruders," Ram says. He has the key in hand and is ready to storm the apartment.

Luis hauls ass up the stairs and moves between us and the door. "Are you sure, _dulce_? Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"Yes, _cariño_, I'm sure." Ella replies. She turns to face the RangeMen in the stairwell. "Men, this is healthy. I know it does not sound healthy, but it is. Please leave the stairwell. I need to speak to the Core." She turns back to me. "Hal, your office. Now. Find Hector and have him meet us there."

I look at Ram and nod. A quick look at Junior and he nods, grim. He'll check the stairwell and elevator cameras and ensure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that no one slipped past us and attacked the CO.

Two minutes later, Manny, Ram, Hector and I are in my office looking at Ella. I can't understand why she would think that Steph's screaming is healthy, but I am willing to listen.

Then I'll go check the apartment.

* * *

**A/N: Conversation in Spanish.**

Ella sighs and sips her water. "I do not want to hear repeated what I am about to say to you. Understood?"

We all nod. This must be serious.

"For the past four months we've all been working with Stephanie to meet RangeMan standards. We've changed her diet. She's being forced to exercise. She's meeting our company standards for guns and self-defense. In short, we've removed all her freedom."

Ella takes another sip of water and looks at us. "You men are used to these things, so the RangeMan lifestyle isn't something you think about. Stephanie has to adjust and all she can see is what she no longer has. She no longer has the freedom to come and go as she pleases. Now, if she wants to go somewhere, she has to take a security detail or Hector. Her day begins at 5:30a.m. instead of whenever she wakes up. She has a set number of things she has to accomplish instead of being allowed to call her own shots, decide her own agenda. She doesn't see her family and friends as often as she's accustomed to seeing them. In short, she just broke. That's what the scream was. She just broke mentally and emotionally. I've been expecting this."

"Well, thanks for telling us, Ella," I mutter. "That scream took 10 years off my life. If I'd known you expected this, I could have . . ." Actually, what could I have done? Would I have even understood?

Ella asks those same questions as I'm thinking them. "There was no way to prepare you for this, Hal. I wasn't even sure how it would happen. I prayed that she wouldn't break before I returned from Miami." Ella shudders. "It would have been a disaster if I'd been in Miami when this happened."

We all shudder. That's true. However Ella plans to handle this, we would not have handled it the same way. We would have messed it up.

"So, here's the plan. I will take Stephanie away tomorrow. Hector? Switch her trackers over to your phone only." Hector looks at Ella, who nods. After a moment, Hector nods back. "We will be gone the entire weekend and will return on Monday night. She needs a weekend away from all men to think and begin to make some choices."

Ella pins us all with a stare. "If you hope to keep Stephanie as a RangeMan and in this company, you will **not** call her this weekend. Call Tank and tell him he needs to cover for her until Tuesday morning. Consider her offline with me as her backup."

We nod. Done. Whatever you need, Ella.

"You can share the situation with those you trust. Give the men the barest outline. Your role, your duty this weekend, is to come up with ways to ensure that the CO remains stress free. Don't use the things that relieve stress for you. So, no additional range time, Ram." Ram grins and nods.

"No hand to hand practice, Manny." Manny is smiling.

"No monitor duty, Hal." Darn. I enjoy handing out monitor duty. Steph keeps earning it and her hours are stacking up. I wonder if I can trick her back in front of the monitors any time soon.

"No more 'blank face' practice, Hector." Hector chuckles.

"Come up with things you can use to remind her that she's loved and appreciated. The flowers are wonderful and you have no idea how much those mean to her. More things like that." Ella stands up and smiles. "Consider yourselves as wooing your boss to stay. She's a woman and a woman needs small things to remind her she's loved. You boys do so many wonderful things for me. Now, you need to do them for your boss. Bring Atlanta in on this. They love her too and they'll want to participate. I leave this in your capable hands."

* * *

Ella overestimates our competency. We're stuck. Flowers were easy. Chocolates would violate protocol.

"Hal, what do you do when you take her away?" Junior asks.

"I make arrangements for her to see her friends, eat her junk food and have dinner at her parents." I shrug.

"OK, well that's good," Ram says. "Let's put all those on the list. I mean, it worked once, right?"

"Yeah."

"What about perfume?" Danny asks.

"Good idea," Chase says. "What's her perfume?"

We're stumped, but Junior writes it down. It's his job to detail all options.

There's a beep on the line. Javier. I take it in my office.

"Javier, what's up?"

"Danny tells me you're trying to think of gifts for the CO? Is that true?"

Danny told him? Why? "Yes."

"Great. Jorge, Diego and I want to participate. We'll be the only ones from this office."

Ah. Good call, Danny. I give Javier the number to call into and rejoin everyone in Conference 1.

"Javier is joining us," I announce. That gets a lot of raised eyebrows.

"Hey, this is Javier, Jorge and Diego. We have some ideas."

"Well, call them out, man! Have at it," Manny says, smiling. He passes me a note. _Javi has a girlfriend. The man has to woo. We might be saved._ If this is true, I'll forgive Javier taking my strategist for six weeks.

"Alright, here's some ideas. Dinner out once a week. Massages once or twice a week. Take her dancing. Pack a picnic lunch and make it a group thing. Ditch the trainer for a morning and take her running somewhere in the city. Buy her a new bottle of perfume. Be the bag mule when she goes shopping. Take her to the movies and to the theatre. Check with the local universities for concerts and art shows. Buy her a pair of gloves for the winter and sunglasses for the summer—"

"Wait! Wait! Slow up, man. I'm trying to write all this stuff down." Junior yells. Every man in Trenton is grinning. Javier is saving our collective ass.

"Ready?" Diego asks.

"Yeah. You got a list?" Ram asks.

"We compiled our ideas together." I can hear Diego's grin from here. "I don't have my rep for nothing and Jorge is a creative as hell. Believe me, Javi isn't done yet."

"Alright. Junior's caught up. We're typing now. Hit us."

"OK, buy her a plant—"

"We already do flowers."

"Flowers are good, but they die," says a new voice. That must be Jorge. "You have to replace them every week. Buy her a pretty plant that she can see every day. Something that doesn't require a lot of water or sun. Buy the flowers too, but she'll like the plant. Buy bubble bath. Pay for a spa weekend. Take her to see her favorite sports team. Find a botanical garden and take a tour. Take her walking along the river. Sign up for dance classes. Yeah, I know she can dance, but can she do Latin dances? Play pool. Take her to the arcade and play SkeeBall. Play bumper cars. All the fun of wrecking a car with no explosions." Loads of laughter at that idea, but it's brilliant.

Damn. We should've asked men with girlfriends. Jorge just supplied a bunch of great options. What on earth will Diego add?

Ten minutes later every man in Trenton is grinning to beat the band. Man, single men with girlfriends are the best. Diego's list had things like buying simple, pretty jewelry (like a pretty bracelet), neck and shoulder massagers, wine and beer tastings, gift certificates for things she can do with her nieces, noise-cancelling headphones for plane rides, and boat trips. He then added some things off the cuff, like buying a micro-brewery kit and letting Steph make beer ("Kinda like sausage," he said. "Once you know what goes into your beer and you've watched it ferment it may turn you off, but she may like it. Plus, it doesn't really count as cooking."), taking her to the Apple store for lessons on using her new phone more effectively, and pulling out playing cards and childhood board games for a game night.

Junior types up the list and distributes it to the XOs of the three offices. We agree that we are ready. We will woo.

* * *

I spend the weekend with Candy. I give her a bare overview of what's going on and she smiles.

"Your boss wears Dolce Vita."

I blink. How in the hell does she know? Candy leaves (my soldier is weeping. Come back!) and returns with a bottle. I sniff. Holy hell. It's Steph's perfume.

"I never wear this. It's wrong for me, but it was a gift from my mom. I smelled it on you a few times and I was ready to hurt you and your soldier until you told me you had a female boss, one you like to hug." She smirks at me. "I knew I recognized it. It just took me a moment to place the scent."

"What do you wear? It reminds me of oranges."

"Clinque Happy. It's citrus based." Candy smiles so I must've gotten that right. "Anyway, I think what you guys are up to is cute, but you better put it on a schedule and make sure it's random. If your boss is half as suspicious as you say, she'll catch on to what you guys are up to quick."

I text this info to Ram and Manny. They respond. They'll work out the schedule and get a bottle of perfume.

I consider what I know. I'm thinking I need to put more effort into my wooing of Candy. She's been solid ever since we met three months ago. She understands my weird work schedule. She talks to me whenever I call her, no matter the hour. She's stopped taking as many hours at the casinos and started looking for an HR job. We haven't exactly talked about her moving to Trenton or moving in with me, but I can tell she's serious. What I thought would be a one-off trip to the champagne room has turned into something serious.

I always thought I'd never date a stripper or a hooker but, again, it's something that Tank has taught me. A woman's past doesn't matter if she's changing her present and future. We all have something in our backgrounds. Is she a good woman? Does she support me? Does she love me (do I think she loves me)? Is she loyal? Then I can't hold her background against her. What am I expecting? A virgin? Besides, Candy strips because she couldn't get a job in HR when she first graduated and, well, she could make more money as a stripper. She needed this money for some reason she hasn't told me yet.

I don't like the idea that random men are getting a good look at what she says is only mine. I'm beginning to think this is going to be permanent, which thrills me. I'll make a conscious effort to romance her even more than I do now, and I now have a great list of ideas.

Candy spends the evening making my soldier a very, very happy man so I spend the weekend wooing my girlfriend. I pay for her mani/pedi and wax session and, while she's enjoying her pampering, I make reservations for a nice restaurant. We hold hands and I buy daisies for her apartment. As usual, it's a great evening. Candy likes teasing me until I turn red and I like pampering her. She makes me feel needed and wanted and very much like a man. She appreciates everything I do and likes to surprise me with foot rubs and homemade meals. Women as beautiful as her act as if it's your duty to worship them and they don't have to do anything in return. Candy is beautiful inside and out.

Our return to her apartment isn't as much fun. We arrive to find a man standing outside, looking pissed.

"There you are. Where the fuck have you been? I need to talk to you."

Candy goes red at the sight of him. I'm confused. Who the heck is this?

The man looks at me. "Look, I don't know who you are, but your evening is over. Candy, reimburse the man so we can talk."

I'm not saying anything until I know who this is. I look at Candy and wait. She won't look up. I squeeze her hand.

"Do I need to come in with you?" I ask.

She looks surprised and grateful I asked, but I pissed off the stranger. He steps forward.

"Look, buddy, don't come up here trying some routine on this bitch. I already told you—"

He can't talk with the mouthful of gravel he currently has. My knee is in his back and my Glock is to his head.

"You've already insulted me by suggesting she's a whore in my presence. You've pissed me off by calling her a bitch. Want to keep offending me? Keep talking," I hiss.

Candy places a hand on my shoulder. "It's OK. It's my brother-in-law. He's here about my sister."

Really? Your family talks to you like that? Would never happen in my family. I help the idiot off the ground. "Not acceptable." I look at her solemnly. "Ever."

She blushes and nods, holding my free hand. "Steve, this is Hal. Hal, my brother-in-law, Steve. He's married to Cassie, my sister."

OK, everything is matching up with the report I ran on Candy after we met. I still don't like Steve.

Candy unlocks her apartment and waves us both in. The brother-in-law is looking at me, frightened. Well, perhaps I shouldn't have waved him in with the Glock. I grab some water and sit, waiting to hear what's said. Candy sits next to me and sighs. I pass the water. She looks beat.

"Look, Cass's chemo sessions are coming up and we can't pay for 'em. You're late and we need money for this shit. When's it coming?"

I smell a lie. It's nearly July, so why is he wearing long sleeves? And he's twitchy. Concerned about money and treating his sister-in-law like she's a hooker? Something else is going on.

Drug user. He has to be.

Candy squeezes my hands. "I've cut back on my hours, Steve. I don't have it. You have insurance at your new job. Use your insurance."

"I can't. Cass is considered a pre-existing condition. I couldn't cover her."

I wonder how good our insurance is. I make a mental note to ask Steph to look into that.

Candy sighs. "Then I don't know what to say. Check with indigent services at the hospital. I'll see if I can pick up some extra jobs."

I squeeze her hands and shake my head when she looks at me. No. I smell a rat. You're mine and I want you to cut back, not increase. If your sister has cancer, we'll handle that but no stripping. Especially for someone I think is high on drugs. As a matter of fact . . .

I move quickly from the sofa to Steve, toss him to the floor, and handcuff him. Quick tap on the chin to knock him out. Now that he's immobile, I check the usual spots. Track marks everywhere.

Candy is looking at me with a mixture of horror and lust. I grin internally.

"Steve's a crack head. Or meth head. Dunno which, but whatever it is requires needles. He'll be out for a while. Want me to search for the truth?"

Candy nods slowly. I pull his wallet (SSN Card. Jackpot!), go back downstairs to my car and return with my laptop. I hit our search engines and check.

"Unemployed. He's pulling benefits."

Candy's jaw clenches. I keep searching.

"No records at any hospitals for your sister. You have her social?"

Candy shakes her head. I didn't think she would. I keep searching.

"Bank accounts are dried out. Where do they live?"

"Here. Are you telling me that I've been stripping to pay for cancer treatment that she never had?"

Oh Lord. If that was her reason, I'll make sure Steve will never walk right again.

"I hope not. Steph is the queen of searches, so I'll pull a favor and ask her to do an in-depth search. I can ask Zero to come and check your sister, coordinate her care. If she really does have cancer, he'll know how to move the system along. If not, well . . ." I look at Candy, who looks grateful. I pull her into a hug and she starts crying. "Shhh . . . oh come on, I suck at comfort." She starts laughing through her tears. "Look, if it makes you happy, it'll make me happy and I've banked so many favors at work that it's nothing for me to call a few in. Want me to?" Candy nods. I call Zero.

"Calling in a favor."

"Whatcha need?"

"Candy's sister may or may not have cancer. I suspect bro-in-law is on drugs." Candy is still crying silently into my shirt and I'm ready to take on the world to make her feel better.

"Which hospital?"

"I couldn't find her at any. Cassandra Thomas, DOB—" I call the DOB Candy gives me—"Married to an idiot named Steven. Found track marks everywhere."

"You in AC?"

"Yeah."

"Gimme directions. Easier to start with bro-in-law. I can inject him with something that'll make him talk and then we can search for the sister."

I tell Candy, who nods. I give Zero directions to her apartment. He arrives in an hour with Zip in tow. I bet he sped all the way here. They both wave at Candy and hug her. She's surprised. I shrug. RangeMan. We take care of our own. Plus, she looks as if she's been crying. We might suck at comfort, but Sis and Maria have taught us to be good with hugs.

"Let's strip him and put him in the bathtub. One to the chin?" Zero asks.

I nod. We strip him and stick him in the tub. I can see Zero counting injection sites. He whistles.

"Crack. These are long-standing sites." He injects Steve and we wait. 30 minutes later, Steve comes around.

"Hello Steven." Zero has pulled his 'Hannibal Lector' voice out. This is going to be amusing. Steve blinks and he opens his mouth to say something when Zero holds up another syringe.

"Narcan."

Steve's eyes are impossibly wide.

"I saw a fresh site. Would hate to ruin your high for you, but I will. You lie to us and you're on your first step to recovery."

Steve nods frantically. Amazing value system in drug addicts.

"Wife's name?"

"Cassandra Marie Thomas"

"DOB, Social, and doctor."

He babbles everything. Zip is taking long hand notes and I restart the search engines. Candy enters the now crowded bathroom with water for us.

"Where is she right now?"

"Landfill."

We pause. I hear a loud gasp outside the door and I move to catch Candy before she can storm in. She has tears in her eyes and looks stricken.

"Shhhh. Let the guys keep going. We'll get everything, I promise." I call Junior and fill him in. He has a group of volunteers ready to ride to AC in five minutes. I give him directions to Candy's and fill her in. She's sitting comatose on the couch.

15 minutes later, Zero joins us. "Zip is running the searches. Steve looks concerned. I left the syringe in sight." He smirks. Come on, Zero, get on with it. Candy's white. "Your sister is alive, last he knows. They scrounge for stuff at the landfill, food, clothes, et cetera."

Candy exhales and turns to me. I open my arms and allow my woman to soak my shirt for a few minutes. Zero smirks at me then lowers his gaze to her butt. I growl and he looks amused and backs away. Zip joins us. He passes Zero the laptop and while Zero scans the information, Zip turns to Candy.

"I'm sure Hal's called in a search team to find her, but I doubt you like what we'll find. I did find her in the hospital records once I had her social. They used your name and her social, so you'll need to get that cleared up," Zip says. "I also checked her for a police record. Again, your name, her social so it's something else for you to clean up. Mostly possession, but a few for solicitation and prostitution."

Candy looks shocked. I'm furious.

Zero's ready now. "Her records show that she's also hooked on crack. She does have cancer, but the last records show it's in remission and has been for about a year. Her next appointment is in eight weeks."

Now I'm beyond furious and grateful for this night. If Candy had attempted to apply for jobs before she cleaned that stuff up, then she would be denied everywhere because she appears to have a record, even though she doesn't. I wonder why it didn't flag when I searched for her. Probably because I also had her social.

"So you're telling me that my sister is in remission and they've been taking money from me for a year for cancer treatments that don't exist? Using my name when they get in trouble? Using my name everywhere?" Candy looks stunned and angry.

Zip and Zero nod. I rub her back. Candy turns to me. "I don't care what you do to him, but I never want to see him again."

We grin. Not a problem.

"We'll take Mr. Thomas with us, if you don't mind, Candy," Zero says, "but on one condition."

"Name it," Candy replies.

Zip and Zero grin big. "Send the XO back to Trenton in a sweet mood," Zero says. "We can always tell when he's been here to see you. He has the dopiest look on his face."

Zero dashes from the room before I can catch him. Zip and Candy laugh.

"No joke, Ms. Taylor. Goofy grin when he calls you, thinks about you, and I'm guessing some thoughts are very special when he turns red." Zip also runs from the room and Candy turns a very sultry smile at me, but I'm sure I'm red.

"Monitor duty!" I yell, embarrassed. "You guys suck as wingmen."

Zip and Zero reappear, marching Steve between them. Zero grins. "No, we're great as wingmen. Instead of forcing you to join this hunt for Cassie, we're leaving you here to comfort and care for your woman. We'll handle business and fill you in." They force Steve outside and strap him into the SUV.

Zero returns and looks at Candy, completely serious. "You have the best man in the branch and we're leaving him here to handle the big business, your happiness. We'll find your sister and get the truth. Hal will get the updates and once we've learned everything we can, we'll call. It'll be your choice on how to handle it from there."

Candy kisses Zero on the cheek and he looks stunned. He glances at me and I roll my eyes. I've spent too much time around Sis. Zip appears and is also given a kiss.

"Thank you. I know you didn't have to and you only came because Hal called in a favor, but I appreciate it. Just be gentle with my sister, please," she says, leaning into me a little. I put my arm around her and rub her back.

Zip smiles. "We'll handle her with kid gloves. Just had a thought. You need to run your credit reports and a full background. Make sure they haven't done more damage to your name."

I'd already thought of that. They leave and I turn to Candy.

"Well, this isn't quite the evening I had planned." I smile and open my arms. I feel her start crying again, so I pick her up and carry her to the couch. I lose track of time rubbing her back while she cries. Somehow this turns into a marathon session of naughty stuff on the couch before my cell phone rings. Just in time. My soldier has fallen out. Too much of an awesome thing.

"Yo!" Junior.

"Yo. Update?" I put the phone on speaker so Candy can hear. Candy looks at me teary eyed, so I kiss the top of her head and hand her the phone. I lock the front door, pick her up, and carry her back to the bedroom.

"Found the sister. Completely unrepentant about using her sister's name. Was jealous of Candy for her looks, her degree, and the money she made as a stripper. She tried doing the same, which is how she met Steve, but he's been pimpin' her since she doesn't have Candy's stellar looks and can't dance worth a damn. Trust me on this. She tried giving us a demo and I thought Zero would medicate her for a seizure."

That's the first laugh I've had since Steve showed up.

"They knew about you. Planned to pimp Candy to you somehow, you know, crack head plans. Made no sense, but they were certain you must have money. Didn't realize you l-o-v-e the woman and wouldn't have fallen for that anyway."

Candy grins and starts stroking my soldier again. Thanks Junior. Appreciate you giving away my secrets like that.

"They blew through Candy's money on crack and the occasional hit of meth. We asked Cassie if she wanted help, wanted away from her husband but nope, she loves the bastard. Quite happy to be with him living in trash. We video and audio taped the whole thing, XO, in case your lady needs to see it to believe us."

Candy shakes her head. I've told her time and time again that my coworkers don't lie. She believes them.

"We've got them in a cheap motel for the night. How does Candy want to handle this?"

I look at her. This is completely her call.

"Can you get a list from them of all the places they've used my name? I've got to get that cleared up before I move to Trenton. After that, cut them loose. I'm sure if they ever want something they'll find me. I won't have to go looking for them." Candy is looking directly at me and I grin. Yes!

I can hear Junior's grin in his voice. "10-4. And Candy?"

"Yes?"

"Send my partner back in a good mood."

"Monitor duty," I growl. Junior laughs. _Click_.

I turn to Candy, who is looking at my solider with interest. Yes, he's always ready around you. You put him on active duty again.

"What's monitor duty?" she asks, stroking. Oh Lord, help me.

"Worst punishment I can hand out. Sitting in front of security monitors for four hour stretches. Mind numbing, butt numbing, the most boring assignment at the office. True punishment for men who like action."

I'm surprised I got that sentence out. Her mouth is doing wonderful things right now.

An hour later I'm exhausted. The woman has boundless energy in bed. I look over at her and she grins.

"I know that you guys are wooing your boss, but it really shouldn't be that hard for you. After all, tonight you and your coworkers wooed me."

I look at her, confused.

"To woo a woman, you support her. You encourage her. You try to gain her affection and love. From what you've told me about your job, your coworkers, and your boss, you've done that and you do it all the time. Seems to me that it's second nature for all of you. You consider yourselves her big brothers." She settles next to me and I pull her closer. "You just need to do things she likes more often. She's doing all the stuff you guys love."

I consider Candy's statement. She's right. All the things Steph does now are all about RangeMan and doing things the men love to fit in. We have to do the things that Steph loves too. Everyone has something to add to the company. Finally, Ella's statement makes sense.

"How did we woo you?"

Candy smiles. "You supported me from the moment Steve showed up. You didn't believe his insinuations. You followed your instincts and found out the truth, something I never could have done. You encouraged me not to believe my sister was dead until your guys had more information. You left the decision on what to do about Steve and Cassie up to me."

I smile. Perhaps she's right. That was all second nature for me.

She snuggles closer and kisses my nipple. I shiver. "The guys were upbeat and encouraging the entire time. They came simply because you asked them to, for me. All they asked for in return was for me to make sure you go home happy." She grins. "And they told me how you felt about me. They may have ruined your game but they made me feel secure in what we have. It gave me the courage to decide to move to Trenton. If this is real between us, then I don't want to let it slip away. You support me in everything."

I kiss her forehead. "You support me. Easy enough to give back." I get a cuddle for that and she's soon fast asleep.

My woman is wise. We already know how to woo. We just have to do it.


	18. The Truth about Love and Marriage

**Chapter 51.3: The Truth about Love and Marriage**

**Lula's POV**

I need to talk to Steph. I got decisions to make and I want to do this right. I'm never gonna do this again.

"Now, I like colors and you like colors too, Lula, so we need to start thinking about yo wedding colors. You give it any thought?"

Nope. I've _obssessed_ over it and I spent the past two weeks admiring my ring and handling Tank. Daily. Nightly. In our apartment. Everywhere in our apartment. In the RangeMan apartment on the temporary dining room table. Bobby's still blushing red but I'll bet he's learned to knock first.

I can feel Tank cringe next to me. Before I can say anything, Tank cuts in.

"No pink, Momma." He looks at me. "I know, it's your wedding, Lula Bear, but I don't do pink or any shades of red." I'm ready to go rhino when he lifts and kisses my wrist. "I was a Crip, baby, and even though I put that part of my life behind me, you still won't catch me in red."

I stare at Tank in amazement. You mean I can't have my favorite color because of some gang shit? I look at Tank, in his eyes, and I realize that this is the only thing this man has said about our wedding so far. He's ignored the wedding magazines I got everywhere in the apartment. He's dutifully looked at each wedding dress photo I've shown him. He hasn't given me a spending limit or told me that we can't do this or that. Just no pink.

My shoulders slump. Fine. I can deal with that. I turn to Mrs. Carol Jean.

"I dunno. I mean. . ." I wanna say 'I never expected to get your son to marry me and I figured if we did, it'd be at the courthouse. Wedding planning is beyond me.'

She grins. "You never thought you'd get Pierre nowhere near a preacher, huh?" I laugh. "OK, then let's start with the basics. Date."

I'm stumped, but I turn to Tank. He smiles. "April."

"April?" Damn! That's …I count quickly …nine months away!

"Ranger should be back by then. He's the best man."

"You can't choose someone else?" I'm gettin' nervous. Why is he putting it off that long?

Tank's eyebrow rises. "If Steph was unavailable, would you just substitute her for someone else?"

Oh. Right. Ranger is his boy. No matter what, Batman gotta be there. "OK, April. No, May. Give him some time once he gets back." Tank nods and kisses my cheek.

"Great! Now, church or no church?"

"No church," Tank and I reply together. We look at each other and smile.

"Imma get you two back in the church if it kills me," Mrs. Carol Jean grouses.

"I'd hate to bury you Momma. You and Lula gettin' long so well," Tank grins. She stands up and smacks him, then goes to the kitchen and returns with water for everyone. "We'll make it back to the church when we get ready. Meantime, let's find some place in Lafayette to hold the wedding, OK?"

"Fine, I'll get to looking. Meantime, you sure you don't want to scout some options up north? Lula baby, won't that be hard on your family? Normally you have the wedding where the brides' people is from."

I swallow hard. "My family and I don't speak. They won't attend."

Mrs. Carol Jean looks at me and shakes her head. "Po' baby. Well, don't worry. You getting plenty of family in this clan."

I smile. She ain't lying.

* * *

Tank and I went around and around on wedding colors until Mrs. Carol Jean said that we should each pick one. Tank picked black. She and I rolled our eyes but Tank, sneaky devil, pulled my wedding magazines and showed us some elegant photos with black as a theme. Black and white, black and blue, black and pink–there were plenty of classy examples. So we chose black and baby blue. After that, Tank didn't have much else to say, but I'm keeping an eye on him. Clearly, he's reading the magazines. He has opinions and he trots them out at the sneakiest times.

Me and Mrs. Carol Jean spend the next week driving around San Antonio looking for wedding stuff. Tank had to go back to work, so it was just me and her in the Escalade. She was thrilled.

"Baby, you have no idea how long and how hard I prayed that Pierre would find a good woman. I'm happy you in his life. Hold onto him. He quiet and he ain't gon say much, but he's a good man and a good son." She grins at me. "Imma do my best to keep my nose out y'all marriage. I **hated** my mother-in-law for constantly sticking her nose in. I don't want you to hate me after I prayed so hard for you."

I laugh. "Mrs. Carol Jean, I don't see how I could hate you so far. You've been a blessing to us." I look over at her. "Plus, you can get Tank to talk. I can't unless we in a bedroom."

She hoots with laughter. "His daddy was the same way. Mean and onery but silent unless I was flat on my back. Then he had plenty of shit to say." She shakes her head.

"What was he like?"

"Mean," she says, smiling sadly. "I didn't know what I was marrying. I was young, sixteen, and in love with an older man. He was 30." I nod. "Next thing I know, I'm babyfull and working like a slave to support me and him. He drank." She motions for me to turn at the light. "I had five children for that man and he never once told me he loved me. Just used me, ran around on me, and drank hisself to death."

Sounds like Derrick. I was glad when he died. Meant I had to work the streets on my own, but at least I didn't have him beating me all the time.

"You got the face of a woman who know what I'm talking 'bout."

"Yeah."

"You know he not like that."

"I know."

"But you scared anyway, right?" I nod. "Good. Means you ain't take leave of all yo senses. You trying to make sure it won't happen again. I don't blame you. I nearly fell in to the same trap."

"But that's your son! You don't think he's a good man?"

Mrs. Carol Jean smiled. "'Course I know he's a good man. I'm talking 'bout you baby. I could praise my son to the skies, tell you he touched by God, make like the sun shines out his behind. But a woman like you, a woman like me, we got a past. We got history. We been hurt. We know better than to just trust the appearance of goodness."

She right about that.

"So I'm proud that you takin' yo' time and really looking at what life with Pierre is 'gon be like. I'm proud you lookin' at Pierre and making sure he the right man for you."

I look over in surprise and she nods. "I met a man right after Pierre went to the Army and thought I was in love. He was the opposite of Antoine, my husband. Pierre came back from basic, took one look at him and said, 'Momma get rid of him. He the same.' I didn't hesitate. I put him out."

"Just because Tank said to get rid of him?" I'm astonished.

She nods. "I'd realized by then that Pierre was an excellent judge of character. He saw this man was no good. I trusted my son's judgment and he was right. I find out he was running around with another woman real quiet. My sisters-in-law knew but them bitches ain't say shit." I'm grinning, eyes wide. "Oh yeah, baby. They nearly let me fall into that same trap again. Them heifers didn't want me to be happy. They wanted me to be under someone's control. They still don't believe Pierre is Antoine's."

I'm astonished. "Then why were they at that Sunday dinner?"

"To meet you, baby. Pierre is the wealthiest member of the family. They don't know what he's worth, but they know it must be substantial. For him to put his sisters through college, pay Antoine's child support, and make it so I can retire and not need anything? Clearly my son got money and they want theirs, even though they treated him like shit for years."

My jaw clenched. Tank got a family of leeches. No wonder his sisters are pissed we getting married. My marryin' Tank is cutting off the gravy train for most of the family.

"Both yo' husband and yo' son named Antoine?"

She nods. "Uh huh. Since Pierre and his sisters never talk about they daddy, we call Antoine by his name. Antoine the only one who talk about his daddy so don't worry 'bout being confused. Rarely we call Antoine 'Junior', but that's like calling Pierre by his name in front of people who don't already know it. You wanna see temper?" She snorts. "That boy has a plumb fit if you call him 'Junior'. Makes Pierre's anger look like minor irritation."

Shit. I can't even imagine that.

"In any case, they forever asking him for money and Pierre makes them beg for it on the _rare_ occasion he agrees. His way of making them pay for every slight and sting I ever suffered. So I'm the head of the family, because they know that everything comes through me. If I'm mad at someone, they cut off. So they wanna see you to start developing a relationship with you to ask for money through you. A woman with control of her man's parts is a powerful creature and it's clear you got Pierre sprung."

I park the car and laugh till I cry. That damn blank face musta been on vacation. The bridal boutique should open again in 10 minutes. The employees are on a lunch break, so we got time to sit and talk.

"That's why you need to be careful of my daughters and my son. I love them all, but they got some aspects of they daddy and one is that they can be users. Antoine definitely is, and Pierre knows he's enabled that but he loves his nephews. Wilma and Thelma ain't so bad, but they live above they means and depend on Pierre for money to help them out.

Chenae is the one you gon' have the most problems with. Tank's been her daddy, since she was young when Antoine, my husband, died. She been living off her big brother for years and since she was the baby, Pierre supported her in almost everything. Now that she's graduating and the gravy train will end with yo' marriage, she's not gon warm to you at all. She expected the same treatment Wilma and Thelma got. Chenae went into Social Work because it mattered to Pierre. Ms. Lucille meant a lot to him."

"I wish I coulda met her."

"She was a good woman. Became my friend too and I cried when she died. She saved my son. She saved my son and my son saved his sisters. Demanded that they respect themselves. Demanded they get educations." Mrs. Carol Jean has tears in her eyes and we sit in the truck quietly. She looks over at me. "Girls pop up with babies in Carencro every day. Don't know when the last time was I saw a girl finish high school without one. Pierre broke that cycle in our family. We proud of that. It's why he paid for their educations. He wanted his sisters not to have my hard life and I agreed with him. Told them to listen to they big brother. He'd steer 'em right."

"You did a good job too."

Her smile is shaky. "Honey, I was too busy trying to keep a roof over our heads. I worked two and three jobs. When Pierre started sending his money from the military I didn't know what to do. My son gave me a cushion so I could give up the third job, then the second. Once Wilma was out the house and it was just me, Thelma and Chenae, I started putting all his money in the bank. The lady at the bank told me to put it in some mutual funds, so Chenae did the research and helped me buy the funds. We picked a few duds, but mostly winners. Chenae got good at reading them investor reports and watching CNBC. We learned to buy stuff we know, stuff we use."

She grins big. "Pierre was stunned when he came home and realized we'd invested his money safely and he had the money to buy his partnership in RangeMan. He figured he'd be the only one trying to get a loan. Instead, me and Chenae had scrimped and saved and invested to pay him back some of what he gave us."

I'm looking for some Kleenex. The love in this family is just wonderful and it explains so much about Tank. Explains why his heart is so big and why he don't pay attention to rumors. Explains why he's willing to give. He gives and he gets it back with interest.

"So she expected that Pierre would be around to supplement her income for years to come. She never expected that he would get married right around the time she graduated, and now she realizes that she ain't gon be able to support herself."

"So she mad at me because she chose a field she know didn't make money? Why didn't she go into business? Sounds like she would have been a great business major."

Mrs. Carol Jean nods. "I agree, but she wanted to honor Pierre and Ms. Lucille. She saw how Ms. Lucille helped Pierre, which turned our family around, and she wanted to make that kind of difference. Now, far as you, you now the most important woman in Pierre's life. It was one thing to come second to Momma. It's another to come third to some new woman _and_ Momma."

She shakes her head. "Now, it ain't like Pierre ain't told them that this might be a possibility someday. He been honest with them and told them that if he found a woman he felt comfortable being with, they would be cut off. But he been sayin' that for a decade. They stopped believin' it. Now you here and you clear that you love him and he clear that he loves you. They know Pierre keeps his word. They scared now."

I shake my head. "All of this is so different from the Tank I know." And it gives me an entirely different opinion of Chenae. She loves her big brother. He was her father.

Mrs. Carol Jean nods. "Honey, one thing I learned about men." I look at her and she's sober. "You ain't gon really know 'em till you live with 'em. When you gotta make them adjustments and really be around each other all the time, that's when yo' love will be tested. You might wanna stay here for a few weeks and really live with Pierre for a while. He told me y'all didn't live together in New Jersey. Take the time now and live with him. You'll learn a lot."

* * *

I swear, Mrs. Carol Jean ain't never lied. Adjusting to living with Tank is a trial. On the one hand, he's on me every night, at least twice a night and more on weekends. We run out of condoms weekly and I've started buying the 36 pack. He cooks and I clean and we sit in the apartment and have fun. I contact a local doctor to start getting the allergy shots every two weeks and Tank and I discuss what this will mean for our lives. In short, no carpet, leather furniture, and a HEPA filter in the apartment.

I ain't happy about it. I hate leather furniture. If you a big bountiful woman, like me, you hate getting stuck on leather furniture. You sit on leather for 30 minutes and you hot. You move around and the sofa squeaks. Do it the wrong way and the sofa farts. I hate that and Tank's doing a shit job of hiding how happy he is that leather furniture is a must. I also wasn't looking forward to all the tile and wood flooring, but after Grace pointed out that Texas doesn't get as cold at New Jersey, I accepted that. I hate stepping barefoot on cold floors.

The cats made a reappearance. I hate 'em but Tank loves 'em. Me and the cats (Mr. Fluffy, Josie, and Salem. Where he get those names?) had a mutual ignore thing going. At least we did until I noticed they needed more food and fresh water. Now they like to wind their way around my legs and I don't need that when I'm trying to get dressed. I'm afraid Imma trip over one of 'em one morning and that's gonna be the end of Tank's cats.

Tank is much more romantic here than he was in New Jersey. I don't know why, but on the weekends, he's quick to suggest a movie or dinner or (he cringes) shopping. I grin every time and I shop while he stands around and makes suggestions. He doesn't tell me what to buy, but he's quick to tell me he likes a certain shirt or skirt. I realize I've been here a month and haven't bought anything with Spandex the entire time.

"Do you like my Spandex?"

Tank raises an eyebrow. "Do _you_ like your Spandex?"

"That ain't what I asked, Tank."

He grunts. "I'm never gonna tell you what to buy, Lula. You don't comment on the all-black uniform, I won't comment on the Spandex."

Hmm … I buy some Spandex, for old time's sake, but I pick up a few more wrap dresses. He likes those. He likes sliding his hands under the wrap and stroking my skin. Made for some interesting dinners.

* * *

On the downside, I hate his cooking. I see what Steph means by no fat, no calories, and no taste. I had it up to here with salad.

"Tank, it won't kill us to have a bucket."

Tank raises an eyebrow. "Go ahead."

I hop into the Escalade and grab me a bucket with sides. KFC ain't Cluck in a Bucket, but it's not bad. Then Tank introduces me to Popeye's. It's a love affair at first bite.

"Do they have these in Jersey?"

Tank checks his phone. "One in Ewing, one on Nottingham in Trenton."

I also have a hell of a time dragging Tank out of that apartment. On weekends he'll go, but otherwise? It's not happening. That was a major fight.

"Lula Bear, I've been at RangeMan setting up this branch for the past 15 hours," Tank says, irritated. "I'm tired. I don't want to see a movie. I don't want to see a show. I wanna make love to you and go to sleep."

"So even though I been cooped up in this apartment all day, you wanna come home, eat, fuck, and go to sleep? Am I calling that right?"

Tank's jaw clenches. He doesn't say anything for a while, just takes a shower and slips into his sweats. He sits on the couch and looks at me.

"Lula Bear," he says quietly, "I'm busy as all hell. I come home and all I wanna do is be with you. I don't need anything extra. You got my car so you can go anywhere in San Antonio you want. You could go shopping for things for the apartment if you want. You don't have to stay here."

My jaw clenches. He's missing the point.

"Tank, I know that. But I'm used to being on the go. I'm bored. I've shopped till I dropped. I've eaten enough. I watched enough Maury that I know who the baby daddy is before he say anything. I need something new to do."

Tank yawns and I see he really is tired. He opens his arms and I settle on his lap. "OK, then let's talk about this? If you move out here, this is going to be your life, baby. You gotta learn how to fill it. So what you wanna do? You still wanna transfer to a school here? Hit the colleges and find a program you like. I'll pay for it. You know I will. You could look for a job. You could work on the wedding and the apartment." Tank leaned back and smiled.

"I done all that. I looked into transferring to the Alamo Colleges. I wrote back to my school and told them to send my transcripts here and I filled out the application to San Antonio College while I was there. I spent time with yo momma looking at places to hold the wedding in Louisiana. I'm waiting on Grace to come back with her ideas on this apartment."

Tank rolls his eyes. Neither of us liked the first two sets of ideas.

"What would you be doing right now in New Jersey?"

_Sigh_. He got me. "Nothing. Working through a bucket."

Tank snorts and kisses my temple. I'm waiting for him to say something when I realize he's asleep.

* * *

I know I'm gonna have to figure something out with Tank's family, so I start with Wilma. She the oldest sister and Tank says she's the most reasonable. I drive to Louisiana and stay with Mrs. Carol Jean for a week and invite each of the sisters to hang with me so we get to know each other.

Tank filled me in on their likes and dislikes before I left, and he kissed my forehead and told me how happy he was that I was trying to get to know his family. No biggie. He close to 'em and he loves them. That's gonna be our family when we get married, and I like Mrs. Carol Jean but I don't want to be at war with all the sisters. I'm not sure what to do with Antoine yet. I don't like him. At all.

Wilma is a pediatric ICU nurse, so we meet up for dinner between her shifts. She brings her pictures of the family and old pictures of Tank and I laugh at all of them.

"Honey, Pierre was the funny one as a kid. Antoine was a mess. You could count on him to get into trouble, but Pierre? Honey, me and Thelma and Chenae followed him _everywhere_. We loved him. He beat up the bullies and pushed us on the swings and played dollies with us. He won't admit to the dolls though."

I'm trying to imagine it and I'm laughing my ass off. I have a good time with Wilma, and she admits that she and Thelma were testing me that first day.

"I mean, like Momma said, you just kinda popped up outta nowhere. First we hear Pierre moving home, or at least to Texas. Then we hear he got a woman. Then Momma tells us that the woman is here to visit him and she wanna go meet her. Now! Me and David were confused."

I'm smiling. "Why?"

"Cuz we didn't know nothing about you. Momma ain't said shit and Pierre?" She snorts. "Good luck. It'd be easier to rob Fort Knox. I told David to watch the kids for a day. I needed to check you out." She looks at me and smiles. "I'm sorry we was so rude but . . . "

"Everything ya'll heard made you wonder?"

She nods. "Yeah."

"How ya'll find out about my past?"

"Chenae eavesdropped on Pierre when he was telling Momma about you. She went digging in the Trenton papers online and found articles about you."

I lean back and nod. Aha! That girl knows her way around a computer.

Wilma snorts. "Good luck with Baby Shug." She grins at me. "Pierre's nickname for her. Baby Sugar." I smile. How cute. "Pierre is her Daddy. She was two when Daddy died and Pierre stepped in. She was six when he went to Basic and you should have seen the way she cried. He raised her from two to six, then kept in touch and babied her when he came home. She sent him all her school awards and medals. Everything she did, he praised. She won the spelling bee, he sent her money and a card. She got into the gifted program and Pierre bought a computer so she could do her school work and research. He was overseas when she was named valedictorian, but the car arrived on time and with a big bow on it. All we had to do was threaten to tell Pierre she was actin' up and she straightened up immediately." She grinned evilly. "The few times she got into trouble, once Pierre was done telling her how disappointed he was, you wouldn't believe the long faces she pulled. You displacing her. She's not gonna like you for a while."

* * *

Thelma's first words were, "I'm sorry."

I blink. "OK. . . "

She smiles. "I wasn't trying to embarrass you that first day, but I needed to know my big brother's woman was made of strong stuff."

I raise an eyebrow. "Yo Momma told me that he's an excellent judge of character. What made you think he wouldn't choose a good woman?"

She looks at me with a saucy grin. "Honey, many a man has been brought to his knees by a good taste of the honey from the right woman." I start laughing. "I watched you walk. Antoine muttered that you looked like the kinda woman that got something that snapped in her panties."

I burst into laughter and she joins me.

"I never heard that saying."

"Really?" She grins. "Common 'round here."

We had a good time at dinner. Thelma is a teacher, high school history, and I sit back and listen to her tell me more stories about Tank and their childhood. She's good at weaving the stories together. No one ever mentions their daddy. Finally, I bring up Antoine.

Thelma snorts. "If this family had a black sheep, Antoine is it. We don't understand him at all. Antoine will sell yo' ass out in a minute." She looks at me hard. "Don't meet with him by yo'self."

"Why?"

Thelma shakes her head. "Because the story that will be told will go from a quick hello at Starbucks to you doing him and his buddies at the music studio." My eyes widen and she nods. "Pierre will kill him. No joke, no exaggeration. He's already told us that disrespect to you will not be allowed, so don't put him in the position of beating his brother to a pulp. Stay away from Antoine until you and Pierre been married for a while."

Antoine sounds like a true piece of shit.

"He got any good points?"

Thelma sits back and thinks about it. "Not any you can use. Not any worth putting your life with my brother at risk."

* * *

I return to Mrs. Carol Jean's after my dinner with Thelma and Chenae is there.

"Oh good, Lula, you back," Mrs. Carol Jean says. "You hungry?"

I shake my head. "Me and Thelma had dinner. Had a good time."

"Thelma and I had a good time at dinner," I hear Chenae mutter under her breath.

I turn around and look at her. "Yes, Chenae, Thelma and I had a wonderful time at dinner. We enjoyed appetizers and delicious margaritas before the entrees arrived. Would you like to hear about the dessert selection?"

Chenae turns red and I nod. "I'm perfectly capable of speaking in standard English, but I assumed that, among my man's people, I wouldn't be judged for speaking in my normal manner. However, if that's going to be a problem for you, I can certainly speak to you formally."

Her jaw clenches and she doesn't say anything. I sigh. "I would like to have dinner with you, when you can. I'm trying to get to know all of Tank's family, starting with the sisters." I grin. "I heard you're 'Baby Shug'. Tank's told me about your academic successes. He's so proud."

Mrs. Carol Jean beams and Chenae has a small smile. "I do my best to make my brother proud. He's done so much for me."

"Well, he is proud. I told him I'd try to spend lots of time with you. He really wants his 'Lula Bear' and 'Baby Shug' to get along. So, do I have a dinner date or not?"

She nods. "Tomorrow? In Houston? I'm trying to decide if I want to stay at Tulane or transfer to a graduate program at Rice. Plus, that's on the way back to San Antonio for you, if you want to get back to Pierre. There's a Cheesecake Factory on the highway."

I smile. "Sounds good. 1 p.m.?" She nods. "So, tell me about your major."

She smiles and sits, crossing her legs. Mrs. Carol Jean is beaming. I go to the kitchen and pour three glasses of lemonade and return to the living room.

"Well, I got into Social Work because of Pierre. Has he mentioned Lucille Graves?"

"Yes," I reply, smiling. "I'm sorry I'll never meet her."

"Yes, she was an extraordinary woman. I met her shortly before her death. I couldn't understand why Pierre was dragging me along to meet this old woman, especially since she had that old lady smell." She wrinkles her nose and Mrs. Carol Jean and I laugh. She grins. "But he insisted that he needed to go see her. It was after Basic. I was expecting to spend my whole day with my big brother. I had a plan and he was messing with it."

I laugh. "Now that's the man I know. You gotta plan, he has a detour. 'Won't take but a moment, Lula Bear'." I mimic Tank's voice and both women hoot. The air conditioning kicks on and I sit back, grateful. Louisiana is hotter than hell in summer.

* * *

We stayed up late talking. I like Chenae and I like her major. It's all about helping people, putting them in touch with the stuff they need to better their lives. I like what she's trying to do and I start wondering if Alamo got something like that. She's not sure exactly which direction she wants to take in social work, which is why she wants to go get a master's degree. Plus, the master's will allow her to make more money.

"I mean, social workers work themselves to the bone for damn near no money. I'll be lucky to find something making $30,000 once I graduate. And _those_ jobs require master's degrees. I'm not interested. I need more money than that." Chenae sniffs and examines her fingernails and I'm stunned by her salary expectations.

I've been working as a file clerk (and sometimes bounty hunter) and barely making over minimum wage. I keep my expenses low. I got a cheap apartment, I don't have cable, I barely run my A/C, and I have one TV and a DVD player. My entertainment comes from the DVDs I can get from the library. My luxury is clothes. Everybody gotta vice and that's mine. I make the sacrifices necessary to allow me to dress the way I wanna.

"Well, what about the work? Do you want to work with kids? Teens? Juvenile delinquents?" I look at Mrs. Carol Jean and grin. "You might find the next Tank."

Mrs. Carol Jean and I laugh, but Chenae merely smiles as if she can't believe how stupid I am.

"I can't see Pierre allowing me to work with juveniles. My brother is a prince among men. Those kids? I've seen them. They're animals."

I know my jaw drops a bit. Wow. Mrs. Carol Jean looks at me and shakes her head.

"OK, well, the elderly?"

"They stink. And they complain. About everything."

"Kids?"

"Not interested. They're always sticky. And loud."

Well damn! "Umm …teen moms?"

She barks a laugh. "No thank you. Keep your legs closed and take your birth control. Quit allowing just any man to fuck you and leave you with the kids. Insist on the damn condoms and take him to court for child support."

Mrs. Carol Jean is stony faced. Chenae looks over at her mother and cringes. "Sorry Momma."

I'm flabbergasted. This girl has no interest in helping anyone who might need help. Why in the hell did she go into Social Work?

"I'm sorry you think I created my own problems, Chenae," Mrs. Carol Jean says frostily. I get up and pick up the lemonade glasses. I can see that mother-daughter talk is about to get awkward. I step out but Mrs. Carol Jean's voice carries.

"I'm sorry I got married at 16 and started having babies for an abusive drunk. I'm so glad there was someone willing to help me. Oh! Wait! There **wasn't** someone willing to help me. I was a married woman with a job so I guess my kids and I didn't need anything. And clearly your father provided everything you needed while you were growing up . . . oh wait! He died. Drank hisself to death. That's right. Glad there was a social worker willing to help me."

It's silent in the living room. It's 10 p.m. and I'm trying to think of some way to remain in the kitchen and not intrude. Nothing. Shit. I walk back in with the lemonade. Mrs. Carol Jean looks over at me.

"Baby I already told you all this so you didn't have to leave the room." She turns back to her daughter. Chenae is red. "If you plan to make that your career, you need to find a group that you can lower yourself to work with." Chenae's jaw is tight and her nostrils flare. I can tell she's trying not to cry. "After all, Pierre was willing to pay for any degree. You got one year left and you chose this field. You better get a game plan soon."

It's silent. I'm trying to think of some way to cut the tension. "Well, do you still have your intro books?" Chenae nods and I smile. "I'd like to borrow them, if you don't mind. I like your major. It's all about helping people, putting them in touch with what they need. Sounds like my kinda thing. I'm always the one telling my friends the truth, trying to make them see sense." Mrs. Carol Jean laughs and Chenae has a small smile.

"I can see me working with women like me. The ones who just escaped abusive relationships or homes." Mrs. Carol Jean is nodding in approval. "That's right up my alley. I got a life story them women can relate to. Make it easier for them to trust me. I can help, with the right training." I smile at Chenae and raise my lemonade glass in salute. "Looks like you've helped someone tonight. I was having a hard time trying to think of a major but yours sounds right for me. I get to help people."


	19. The Housekeepers' War, Part V

**The Housekeepers' War, Part IV—Boston, Part I**

**Susan's POV**

Steven and I were surprised when Ella called to say that she wanted to move us to Miami for two weeks. Once she detailed what was going on, I was curious. It sounded a little fantastical, so I talked to Patrick and Rodney.

That was a stunner.

"So, let me get this straight. Ella wants to move you to Miami for two weeks to determine the level of sexism in there?" Rodney asks, eyebrow raised. I nod and he snorts. "That's easy to answer. High. Ridiculously high. Astronomically high. I wouldn't send my ex-wife to the Miami office. Do you have to go?"

I sit back, stunned. Rodney and his ex-wife despise each other, so I was getting a good idea of what I was walking into. "Well, I report to Ella and this is a request and order wrapped in one, so I would think yes, I have to go. Maria, the Miami housekeeper, is coming here for two weeks."

Patrick sits back and thinks. Finally, he looks at me. "OK. Here's what I think. Sounds like Ella is running some sort of psyop on the Miami office, probably in advance of the CO's visit. The only question is whether this is Ranger's or Lester's idea," he muses. He and Rod look at each other and shrug. "Oh well. We may never get the answer and it's irrelevant now. What were your orders from Ella?"

The boys amuse me. They think of everything in military terms.

"I'm to report to Miami and serve as the housekeeper for two weeks. Do exactly what I would do here. Cook, clean, etc. I dictate my schedule, and my cover is that I'm on 'vacation' and staying at RangeMan and helping out while I am there as payment for using an apartment for free."

Pat nods. "That's standard practice, so it's believable."

"Really?"

"Yeah. If you ever want to take a vacation in a location where we have an office and you want to stay in a RangeMan apartment, you can as long as there's one available during your stay and you're willing to pitch in on a part-time basis as payment for the apartment."

Never knew that. If this trip turns out OK, Steve and I may vacation in Miami a bit more. I hope it's not as bad in Miami as everyone is making it seem.

* * *

We've just landed at the airport and Steve is looking for our bags while I try to find the RangeMen. Eventually, I spot Armando and wave. He smiles and waves and walks over to us.

"Steve? Susan?" We nod and he smiles. "Welcome to Miami. Got your bags yet?"

"Not yet," Steve replies. He looks at me, so I move away to continue to wait for our bags, but I can still hear the conversation.

"Look, I've heard about the Miami boys and I have no interest is seeing my wife being hurt or angered by their behavior, so what I need to know is if this psyop that's being run is having an effect. Otherwise, my wife is going straight from contract."

"I completely understand, Steve, and all I can say is that between Ella and Rose, they're getting the idea. Ella went straight from contract on us and none of the men enjoyed that. Rose ruined their favorite dishes and they didn't enjoy that either. They're starting to get the idea." It was quiet for a moment then I hear, "Look, I'm a husband and father to two little girls. I've tried running an attitude adjustment on the Miami guys before because their attitudes disgust me, but it failed. Ella has asked us to stay out of the way and allow Susan to respond to their behavior, but the management in Miami supports you. We're on your side. Count us as support and let us know what you need."

He smiles at me. "You'll really have to tell me what you need, Susan, because the attitudes piss me off. They insulted Rose and I issued mat time, but she gave me a look that clearly said 'Stay in **your** lane'." Steve and I laugh. That sounds like Rose. "So, you'll need to ensure that I'm not coming between you and them because my first instinct now is to issue mat time and thrash the hell out of them."

I don't know about Steve, but that comment makes me feel much better. If the management is going to stand with the housekeepers, then this might work out.

Our trip to the building is quiet. Armando tells us about the building, the location and the men, but both Steve and I notice the audio monitoring light is blinking. Armando rolls his eyes and nods. He knows. We arrive at the building and Steve and Armando take our bags to the apartment. Once we're settled in, Armando comes over and motions for us to come close.

"I expect you'll be met with a delegation in the kitchen," he whispers. "They may attempt to dictate to you what you should serve." He shakes his head. "That seems to be the opening shots in the war so if they do, that's their attempt to manipulate you. Also, assume that this apartment is bugged until I can come back and check."

He leaves and Steve and I stare at each other in shock.

"I'm headed to the kitchen."

"Not without me you're not."

We head down to see my kitchen space and waiting is a delegation of RangeMen. They stand when we walk in.

"Susan?"

"Mrs. Johnson," Steve replies smoothly, staring hard at the young man.

"Right. Sorry. Mrs. Johnson, I'm Pedro. Welcome to RangeMan Miami."

I'm grateful. I'd heard about the Antonio person. "Hello. I'm Susan Johnson and this is my husband Steven." Steve and the men nod at each other. So far, so good.

"Well, as I said, welcome to RangeMan Miami. If you need any help or assistance, just let me know."

"Great. Two things. Where are Maria's binders and what are the grocery procedures?" I'm moving around to look through the cupboards. I notice I still haven't received an answer and I turn around. The men are looking at each other in confusion.

"Binders?"

"Yes, binders. Each RangeMan housekeeper is required to keep binders. They detail the SOPs for the location, the normal and customary food levels, the menu and meal plans, requirements of any RangeMan with a specialized eating plan, etc. Ella told me that Maria's are extremely thorough and well-organized and I'd like to see them, please."

The men are looking at each other and finally one steps forward. "I'm Juan, and we haven't seen any binders."

Ah, the infamous Juan. He has a shifty look in his eyes, the kind I associate with Janice, my daughter, lying to me. I nod and head to the phone. I dial Armando and place it on speaker.

"Armando?"

"Yes, Mrs. Johnson?"

"I'm looking for Maria's binders. Do you know where they are?" I'm still looking, as is Steve.

Silence on the line. "Last I saw them, they were in the kitchen/prep area. They aren't there?"

"No they aren't. Was that today?" I notice one RangeMan shifting. So does Steve. He starts checking all the cupboards and drawers. I'm fairly certain the binders aren't here anymore.

"No, yesterday."

"Well, I notice that there are cameras in this location. Can you have someone check the cameras and determine how they managed to walk away? I'll call Rose and ask her where she left them."

"Will do." _Click_.

I turn around and Steve shakes his head. I thought not. _Sigh_. Rough start already. I dial Rose. Again, speakerphone while I check the last possible locations.

"Dahling!"

"Dahling! Bit early to hear from you. Everything OK?"

"No. Where did you leave Maria's binders?"

Silence on the line. "I left them in her prep area. Why? They grown legs?"

"Apparently so."

"Damn shame. Can you work without them?"

I sigh. They aren't in here anywhere. "Yes and no. I can make plenty of granola without them, but I can't do anything else until I find them. Armando is searching for me."

"He's good people. He'll help. Ask the Miami men. If the binders grew legs and walked, they'll know. If you can't find them in three days, call Ella. She'll send you a vegan menu plan of the rest of your stay. If I recall correctly, that won't interfere with any RangeMan's diet."

"Thanks dear." _Click._

I turn around and find only myself and Steven in the room. My husband is biting his lip trying not to laugh.

"What happened?"

Steve finally starts laughing. He walks over and hugs me. "Just so you know, I love your granola, but apparently it's not loved here. Three of the men walked out the moment you said granola and the other two left at the word 'vegan'."

I look at Steve and laugh. "I think those binders will be back before bedtime."

He smiles. "They should be back within the hour. Let's go back to our semi-private apartment and allow the men time to replace them."

* * *

Steven and I hit the beach for a few hours. On the way back to RangeMan, we pick up the makings of my best granola. I take the ingredients to the kitchen and smiled.

The binders have been returned. I thought so. Now, to see if they lifted any pages from them.

I make the granola and place it in the containers for use during the week. I call Steven to help me get the binders back up to the apartment so I could review them in peace. The more I flip through the binders, the more clearly I can see the extent of the damage. They removed any meal plans I would consider remotely healthy and added in meal plans filled with things that were so far outside the guidelines that I chuckled reading them. It is clear it's their work; the meal plans were based on 4-8 servings, not the 20-25 servings common in the RangeMan housekeepers' binders.

I call Steven over and he simply laughs. Same trick, new technique. I call Rose and Ella.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Susan."

"Hey, girl! How's Miami?"

"Ladies, you should see this mess," I laugh. "They're running the same game, as if I'm too silly to figure it out."

Ella sighs. "Damn. Alright, what variation are they running on you?"

"Instead of confronting me with 'suggested meal plans', they stole the binders, removed anything vegetarian, vegan, or even containing a vegetable and replaced it with meal plans of their own choosing. It's easy to see because instead of serving 20-25, they serve 4-6 or 6-8."

It was quiet on the line. OK, that was funny to me, but maybe it really wasn't.

"Susan, are you telling me that, in an effort to dictate to you what to serve, they have manipulated the housekeeper's binders?" Ella asks quietly.

"Yes, they have. I'm sure I'll never see those original pages again. I'm still looking through the binder, but I've spotted 23 pages so far."

There's silence on the line. Finally, I hear Rose begin to curse a blue streak. I smile. Rose is very much 'what you see is what you get'.

"Rose?"

"Yes, Ella dahling?"

"Once more for me please."

* * *

The next morning I set the granola out and leave for the beach before any RangeMan can say anything about the diet. On the way back I decide to set out dinner using the 'suggested meal plans'. I make a _Boliche_ as best I can and attempt ham croquettes and something called _natilla_. Looked like an egg custard to me, but it was finicky.

Of course, the meal plan only called for eight servings, so that's exactly what I made.

I leave the meal in the break room and go prepare for a relaxing evening. An hour later, there's a knock at the door. Since I had retired to rest, Steve answers.

"Yes."

"Mr. Johnson, can we speak with your wife?"

"No, you may not. We've retired for the evening. What do you need?"

"We wanted to thank her for her meal tonight, but we were wondering where the extra servings were."

Steve comes back to our room and smiles at me. He knows there weren't any. He stays an appropriate amount of time then returns to the door.

"My wife has asked me to inform you that what was set in the break room is all there is. Goodnight men." He closes the door, returns our bedroom and we laugh and laugh.

The next morning Armando, with a massive smile on his face, asks if I would attend the morning staff meeting. Steve and I go, curious to see how my meal would be addressed. For added amusement, I stuck a phone in my pocket and Ella is listening in.

"Mrs. Johnson, we would like to thank you for the delicious meal you prepared yesterday," Pedro says, smiling charmingly. "Those of us who had a chance to sample it were impressed."

A few of the men shift. 'Those of us who had a chance to sample it'. Some of you went hungry, did you? "Thank you, Pedro."

"However, we were wondering if you could perhaps make a bit more this time."

"Oh, dear. I think not." I watch as every man in the room looks at me in confusion. "You see, if Maria set that meal at eight servings, there must be a very good reason for it, one which I'm not prepared to contradict. I looked through those meal plans and I couldn't find a single one over 12 servings. Since I know Maria's standards are high, I assume there's a reason for it and I'm not going to contradict or second guess her standard."

I sit back and smile. "I must confess myself surprised. In speaking with Ella before I arrived, I understood her to say that she had set a new standard for this office. I know the hallmarks of an 'Ella' meal, so I was surprised not to find any of the meal plans I would associate with her in the binders. Nor did I find any I would associate with Rose. Very odd."

The men are all quiet. Armando looks as if he is contemplating a smile. Mario, who made a special point to introduce himself to me, is clenching his jaw. Finally, Patrice speaks up. "Forgive me my ignorance, Mrs. Johnson, but if a recipe calls for 8 servings and there are approximately 80 men in this building, can't you just multiply the ingredients by 10? Or is that too difficult?" The last part is said snidely.

I'm stunned silent for a moment then I smile coldly. "Yes, you could multiply the ingredients by 10. You would also get unexpected results. Tell me this Patrice, do you live alone?"

"Yes."

"Stunner." There are a few snickers. "Have you ever seen a recipe for six or four and tried to scale it down to one or two?"

He bores holes through me before he nods slowly.

"It's difficult to do because the measure of ingredients changes, cooking time changes, cooking vessels change, so many factors are thrown off. For example, the infamous half an egg problem." Some of the men nod. "That's why the RangeMan meal plans are calibrated to 20-25 servings. That way, if you need to double the meal plan, you can without significant interruption to the factors I mentioned earlier. Trying to multiply a meal plan meant for 8 up to 80 requires significant adjustment I'm not willing to make. I'm on vacation. I'm not here to cook the same meal plan ten times over simply to ensure that the first batch is as good as the last. That's why I really wanted to find Maria's binders yesterday. So I could cook appropriate meals in the correct amounts at one time."

The men are silent. They're now caught between a rock and a hard place. Again. These boys don't learn.

"By the way, I never did get an answer on grocery procedures for this office. What are they?"

Again, complete confusion from all the men. Finally Ignacio asks, "I'm not sure I follow. What are grocery procedures?"

"The procedures for assisting the housekeeper at the grocery store."

"Oh, we don't have those here," Antonio replies with a small smile. "They're unnecessary."

They **are** necessary, and I've seen Maria's pantry. After six weeks, it's decimated. It's time for a grocery run, but since the men here have been on punishment for so long, eating granola, Rose and Ella didn't need to do a grocery run. I tossed everything expired, stale, and spoiled. The fridge is nearly empty.

"Oh. So Maria did not have established grocery procedures?" The men shake their heads. "And none of you assisted her in creating any?" Again, the men all shake their heads.

"If grocery procedures were necessary, we would have them. Maria is perfectly capable of handling the grocery shopping. She does not need our assistance for that," Antonio replies smugly. "I've never met a woman who needs assistance spending money. Women are good at that."

Snickers around the table. I'm gobsmacked and Steven is squeezing my fingers in fury, but I'm happy to note that the XO seems as furious as I am. I'm not going to press this point. I'm just going to let them starve for two weeks.

At the end of the meeting, Armando motions for me to follow him to his office.

"OK, clearly those grocery procedures are a big deal. Explain them to me." I explain the grocery procedures and he looks completely surprised. Then I add, "You're the only location without any. At no other location would they leave the housekeeper to attempt to do those huge grocery hauls alone. Follow me."

I lead him back to the pantry and motion for him to look around.

"Because your men have been on punishment for the past six weeks, there hasn't been a need to do a major grocery run. At this point, I may need to. If I don't, Lucia will definitely have to. Now consider this."

I walk back out to the prep area and pull a standard shopping list. "If this is all the stuff Maria requires for this location, how can she purchase all this without help?" Armando scans the list, his eyes widening in surprise. "I promise you, she's getting assistance with this at every other location and she's getting spoiled. You can expect her to demand the creation of grocery procedures when she returns. You can expect her to make a lot of demands if and when she returns."

I look Armando in the eyes. He's nodding thoughtfully.

"My men treat me like their Mommy in order to get Mommy care from me. Your men treat Maria like a maid. I guarantee you she's learning a lot on her trip around the company. If she returns and your men don't make changes, you **will **lose her to San Antonio. Just expect that."

"I'm going to contact Mark and learn more about the Boston SOPs for the housekeepers. Once I've done that, do you think you could meet with the Core team about the SOPs you're accustomed to? I want to ensure that the environment Maria, hopefully, will return to is the best one." He smiles. "Ella told me to stay out of the way, so I won't share our discussion with the men, but I want to be prepared. I want to know what you ladies are accustomed to."

I smile. The XO truly is living up to his promise of being support.

* * *

The next day, I decide to give Mr. Patrice a taste of his own medicine. I decide to bake chicken breasts for fajitas, usually an easy recipe, but I scale the marinade up appropriately. All ingredients in the marinade.

It's a horrible waste of chicken, but I'm going to make the point. I set the chicken breasts out and wait. I don't have to wait long.

"Susan?"

Armando is grinning. I warned him in advance not to eat it. He's getting a reprieve because he presented me with tentative grocery procedures, which I could tell came from Mark. He also got an outline of the housekeeper's duties from both Mark and Javier, and we sat down, with Thomas and Shane, and went through them, duty by duty. I also asked him to hold onto those. His men need to make the effort. He put the procedures away for safekeeping and Thomas reminded me that anything I needed, just ask. They're willing, eager, to make changes. Armando said he was support and he proved it, so I'm not punishing them. I've been serving the Core Team meals made in the apartment.

Management in Miami stands behind the housekeepers. They've gotten the point.

"Yes, Armando?" I reply, smiling.

"The men would like to speak to you. Do you have a moment?"

"Certainly."

We walk to Armando's office, where I glare at Pedro until he relinquishes the seat. I sit, crossing my ankles demurely, and wait. The men look at each other and Ignacio decides to present their 'concerns' this time.

"Mrs. Johnson, we were surprised by today's lunch. You have been, by far, the best housekeeper we've had these past few weeks, so to find that today's meal was, well, inedible, was a shock."

I nod. Yes, I'll bet it was.

"We were wondering if there was a problem?"

"Did the top fall off the salt shaker and you ignored it?" Antonio mutters. I smile.

"No, the top did **not** fall off the salt shaker. You seem to think that being a housekeeper is a simple task, that meal prep involves simple factors. I chose to demonstrate that it does not. I decided to take your advice and scale the ingredients for a simple fajita marinade up from 8 to 80. That's ten times as much salt. The appropriate amount for the chicken, considering all the other ingredients in the marinade, was around five times the original measure. The absolute limit to scale up any recipe is four times and most shouldn't be scaled up more than twice, the point I made when I first arrived. But . . . you insinuated that it was simple math. Not so simple is it?"

The men are silent and looking at me coldly. Mario and Deuce look furious.

"Then let's discuss the cooking temperature. Have you ever heard of the Maillard reaction?" I don't wait for them to respond. "It's also known as browning. I preheat the pans, to allow the chicken breasts to develop some crust. However, putting ten times as many chicken breasts in the pans means that the relative temperature of the pan takes a huge drop at the beginning and never adequately recovers. And given that the oven temperature only needed to be increased by 25 degrees, going from 350 to 550, the max of the oven . . . " I shrug delicately.

The men have all put their blank face into place. I stand, still staring at Antonio and Patrice coolly.

"I did not spend years in school and in health departments around Massachusetts to be told how to cook. I've been cooking, and educating others on appropriate nutrition, for more years than you've been alive. And if you gentlemen think, for one minute, that I'm going to allow you to tell **me** how to do **my** job, well, you need to reconsider. Quickly. I don't tell you how to perform your duties. You will **not** dictate to me how to perform mine."

I look at the rest of the men. They're silent.

"If you intend to have me cook at any point, for the rest of this trip, you had better get some grocery procedures together. Right now, your pantry is equipped for me to make another 10 days of granola and that's all I will do. Anything more will be because you showed me you were interested in assisting me in my job."

I walk to the door and turn back. Armando is smiling. The rest of the men are not.

"My job is to promote healthy living and good eating habits. I help you perform your jobs by feeding you only the highest quality meals. An added benefit is that you don't have to spend your own money on meals. RangeMan feeds you. You are not assisting me in assisting you. You lose here, gentlemen, not me."

* * *

**Ella's POV**

The phone rings.

"Mrs. Guzman?" It's Armando and he sounds very happy.

"Yes, Armando. How can I help?"

"I believe the ladies may have won the war."

Really? About time. My eyes are wide and I motion for Luis to come closer. "Really, Armando? What gives you that impression?"

"I'm sending you an audio file. You review it and tell me how you want to proceed." He sounds giddy. I'm surprised and looking forward to listening to this recording.

"Thank you. I'll listen to the file and call you back. Goodbye." _Click_.

The file arrives via email moments later. Luis and I sit with Tylenol and bottles of water. I'm hoping we've won. I didn't realize the Miami men could be **this** stubborn. They truly do believe they have the **right** to dictate what the housekeeper will and won't do.

I click the audio file and listen.

"_Yo! Antonio!"_ There's some shuffling. "_We need to talk to you."_

"_Yeah, I know man. This shit's crazy. Imma talk to Mando again."_

"_Yeah it is crazy. You know why it's crazy? Cuz it's yo ass that's causing the problem."_

Silence. Luis and I are looking at each other, eyes wide.

"_This little war you got going with the ladies is ridiculous. This shit's unreal. That woman, Mrs. Johnson, man, she's absolutely right. She's a professional at what she does. Know how I know? Cuz Ranger don't hire amateurs. So I go talk to her and I find out that she's a nutritionist, retired, but she did that shit for 25 years. She's good and all she's asking for is help."_

"_Which she doesn't need, Mario! This is stupid. Maria did her job without needing all this shit these bitches are –"_

Luis and I are stunned. Both by Antonio's words and by what was clearly a punch being thrown. We hear a body hit the ground hard. The entire room goes silent before we hear an angry hiss.

"_Let me make something real clear, you asshole. We can meet on the mats about that later, but right now, I threw that on behalf of Mr. Johnson. That woman is not a bitch. All women are not bitches and if you think they are, I __**want**__ you to call my momma a bitch. I'll black your other eye."_

Luis and I are nodding. Good job, Mario.

"_Let me tell you something. Us, the men, we getting tired of __**yo**__ shit. We're tired of your war with the ladies. We're tired of not getting services around here. We're tired of not eating. Mrs. Johnson was right. Having a housekeeper means we don't have to cook. We don't have to shop for food. I spent $300 at the grocery store and eating out this past month because the RangeMan housekeeper wasn't cooking for us. That's money I can use other places, like on my car or saving for retirement someday. But because you and Ignacio and Pedro, and Patrice, seem to have your panties stuffed up your ass, the housekeepers have declared war on all of us._"

I'm smiling. Yes! Confront the ringleaders, Mario! He sounds extremely angry and unhappy.

"_This shit's ridiculous. When I left that staff meeting, I called Victor in Boston. Asked him about the normal housekeeper duties and you know what he told me? He told me the same shit I heard from Zip, Marcus, and Mack. The ladies, they get help. They have grocery procedures and Zip emailed me the Trenton ones. Victor sent the Boston ones and they're damn near the same. The ladies are taken care of. The men in the other offices treat those women like they're the house Moms and they get fed like it. You know what else I learned, you asshole?"_

Luis and I are grinning.

"_The Trenton men, fuck, everyone know that they're the hardest men in this company. Fuck Miami. Trenton motherfuckers are cold and ruthless with their shit and they eat whatever the fuck Ella cooks. That's why they don't live in the gym like we do. Ella makes that diet easy for 'em. And fuck what you heard, that month Ella was here was the best month I've ever had, health wise. Yeah, my ass was dropping bricks nightly, but fuck, I lost 10 pounds. 10, motherfucker! I lost an inch on my waist. Braulio's fat ass lost 15."_

"_Man, fuck you. Don't be telling my shit!"_

Laughs in the room. Luis kisses my cheek and I smile at him, proud.

"_So the ladies aren't the problem. __**You are**__. You and this stupid vendetta against them. Yo, if Trenton, Atlanta, and Boston have treated Maria anything like they normally treat Ella and Rose, then Susan is right. The Maria we get back won't be the same women. She ain't gonna do the same shit. She won't stand for your ass disrespecting her like you have these other women. So we're telling you and yo' boys now: __**Back off!**__ We're gonna work with Susan and find out what she wants. We'll do what she asks for. And if you don't like it, don't eat. Do your own fucking laundry. Stay outta her way. But don't you say shit to her unless it's 'yes, ma'am', 'no, ma'am' and 'how can I help you, ma'am'? You got that? Asshole?"_

Luis and I stand and clap. Yes!

"_Yo, Mario, calm down, man—"_

"_Nah, he don't need to calm down. Speak, Mario. Tell us what you think, man. Since you seem to have let the ladies take your balls. I'll be damned if I let some cunt tell me what the fuck I'm gonna do—"_

_**THUD**_. Luis and I cringe. There is silence for a few minutes, then, "_Someone help that stupid son of a bitch off the floor. Sorry, stupid jackass__."_

"_That shit was uncalled for, Deuce."_

"_Fuck you, Nacho! We've talked about this and Mario is right. Man, I'll be the first to admit I'm no fan of Ella's diet, but Ella said that Maria would be required to follow that diet when she returns. I'd rather get used to the diet now than have to get used to it when Maria returns."_

"_Deuce, when Maria returns, she won't cook that. She already said it's boring. She'll cook what we tell her to cook."_ Ignacio was the one hit this time. It sounds as if he's trying to speak with a busted lip. Never happened to a nicer person.

Silence, then,_"You are the stupidest motherfucker I ever met, Nacho. You really think Maria is gonna put her job on the line for you? Here's a Q-tip. Clean your ears out and listen. You listening? Ella is the head motherfucking housekeeper. She said, in no uncertain terms, that Maria would be required to follow the diet she left. She didn't say that she was giving Maria options. She said Maria __**would**__ follow that diet. So that means that if Maria doesn't follow that diet, Maria will be fired. Point blank. No questions. The housekeepers, they report to Ella, not the XOs. So you're wrong there."_

"_Since when? The housekeepers don't report to Ella. They report to the XO."_ Juan.

"_Wrong! I asked Susan. Her boss is Ella, not Mark. She works __**with**__ Mark but she works __**for**__ Ella."_

Silence. I'm grinning now.

"_That's why Susan was looking for those meal plans when she arrived and why she's asking for help shopping. She's looking to cook us the standard RangeMan diet. Other thing Mario and I learned? That stuff Ella was cooking is only used for sick RangeMen or RangeMen who __**are**__ vegetarians or vegans. Ella's standard meal plans contain meat. They just contain more veggies than meat. But she uses that meal plan when she and the in-house medic are trying to figure out why a RangeMan is sick. I found that out from Zero and Zip. And yo, I don't know if I was sick or not, but that heartburn I had cleared up while Ella was here. That shit came back with a vengeance when she left. Susan said it's probably the fast food I'm eating. And why am I eating it? Because of __**your**__ stupid war with the housekeepers!"_

There's a chorus of RangeMen murmuring about things that cleared up while I was in Miami. Luis is smiling.

"_Man, my heartburn."_

"_I know, man. Acid reflux is a bitch."_

"_That gas you had that no amount of Febreze or Lysol could hide—"_

"_**Fuck you.**_"

Lots of laughter. Luis is cracking up.

"_Anyway, all us had some shit that cleared up while Ella was here. It came back when Rose arrived. So if Susan is looking to cook the standard RangeMan diet, I wanna see it. I wanna taste what it is, especially since it's got meat."_

Murmurs of agreement in the room. Luis and I are sitting back, smiling now.

"_So here's the deal. You won't go near the housekeeper anymore. You don't speak unless your shit is respectful. You leave her alone. And if you can't manage that, then you and I can meet on the mats."_

"_I agree."_ Armando. Luis and I look at each other in surprise. _"I've already spoken to Susan. She was sincere in what she said. The moment the Miami men are ready to assist her in her normal procedures, we'll taste her cuisine, which Mark says is outstanding. And, by the way, you've already eaten the standard RangeMan diet."_ Silence. _"It was what Rose cooked her last three days here."_

"_For real?"_ Excited murmurs in the room. _"Man, that was great food. That chicken, man, that chicken was juicy as hell."_ There's lot of praise for Rose's menu those last three days throughout the room. Rose is an outstanding cook and well worth what Atlanta pays her.

"_Exactly,"_ Armando replies. _"The standard RangeMan diet is a good one. It's healthy. You won't find a lot of fried stuff on it, but you will find expertly prepared dishes. So, anyone who's interested in helping Susan with her procedures, let me know. Let's get a team together and find out what she wants."_

"_Yo, Mando, since Patrice and Antonio have shown themselves to be an assholes, Imma head it up."_

"_Job's yours, Mario. Good to see you take point."_

"_One last point I want to make." _There's silence in the room. "_I talked to Ms. Rose when she was here. She told me that respect would be the number one thing necessary to convince Maria to come home. Then she told me something that scared the shit outta me. She told me that the housekeeper was the most powerful person in this branch, and she's right."_

Sounds of derision at that statement. Luis and I look at each other, grinning.

"_You know why? Because she has the power to poison every motherfucker here. Every single man here eats what the housekeeper cooks. Fuck an outside enemy. If we piss off the ladies, that's the entire branch. Got me eyeing everything I eat now because she was absolutely right. So fuck what you heard; I'm working __**with**__ the ladies. I'm not interested in emergency trips to the hospital to get my stomach pumped just because __**yo**__ dumb ass pissed them off."_

There's absolute silence in the room. I pause the tape and laugh till I cry. Luis is clutching his chest and wheezing. I need to send Rose something special. What a delicious threat! Finally, Luis and I wipe our eyes and take the Tylenol. Luis kisses my cheek and un-pauses the recording. We hear lots of shuffling as RangeMen leave the room.

"_I don't know what your problem with women is, Nacho, Antonio, but you two need to get that under control. Especially you, Tony. You think Tía Chita will appreciate it if I go home and tell her that you think all women are bitches?" _Silence at that statement. Mando sounded amused as he said it.

"_All women are not bitches, and neither Mario nor Deuce will do any time on the mats for knocking you the fuck out. I stand by their actions. As a married man, I think they were being pretty fucking nice about it. I still want to black your other eye on behalf of my Mariela."_

"_Mando, this shit is stupid. The guidelines are clear—"_

"_No, your shit is stupid. You have no fucking idea what the guidelines are, so quit talking out your ass. I'm putting my foot down. Maria will not return to this. I will back and support her if she's allowed to return here. I want a housekeeper."_ There's silence for a moment, then, "_I happen to know that the Maria we may get back is not the same women. The men across this company are treating her well. She's learning what happens in the other offices. She will demand to be treated as she's seen her colleagues being treated. So you can give up your fantasy of a maid who waits on you hand and foot. It's over._

_That Maria is dead and gone."_


	20. The More Things Change

**Chapter 52.5 The More Things Change . . .**

**Connie's POV**

It's been a slow day. I'm filing my nails, ready to paint them, when Barnyard walks in.

I smirk.

"Vinnie in?" she asks. She's boring holes through me, but she knows better than to say anything. She got what she deserved two months ago. I nod toward his office and she walks in. Moments later I hear the mooing and I laugh.

David walks in with four body receipts. Here's another asshole that makes my day difficult. I start writing the checks only to realize he's absolutely silent. Ever since the fiasco with Barnyard, he's been trying to get back into my good books. Useless. I look up and he's glaring at the door.

"So, the mooing means what, exactly?" he asks quietly.

"She's trying to generate work." I start writing check number three.

"Meaning what exactly?"

I look at him. "What kind of work does Vinnie have to pass around to his play toy?"

A muscle in his jaw twitches and the eyes are dilating. "So, he's passing her a bond?"

"Depends on how nasty she gets."

I finish writing the fourth check and pass him his files. David sits on the couch, still quietly furious, and reads through the info slowly. He's never done that before (he usually does the math and leaves) and I'm amused.

Vinnie's new employee has had enough.

Joyce walks out, reapplying her lipstick. "Vinnie said to give me three bonds." She waits, her back to David, which is stupid. She needs to be watching him because he's furious. She's messing with his paycheck and he's not getting that same kind of service Vinnie just got. That's a problem.

I hand Joyce our three lowest bonds (including Eula. I know she hates picking up Eula, so that should be fun) and smile. "Normal time. I'm not gonna be here all day."

Joyce glares but leaves. David walks over. "What was the value on those bonds?"

"$500 total."

His jaw clenches. "Thanks." He leaves.

I think Vinnie's pencil dick might have gotten sharpened for the last time.

* * *

I step outside to call RangeMan and ask for Hal. I like Hal and working with him is fun. I'm still stuck at nine words, but since Ram managed eleven inside the bonds office, I know it's possible. It can be done.

"Connie?"

"Hal. I have a favor to ask of you. Well, not so much a favor but an opportunity for a good laugh to present to you."

Silence. I can feel him considering it. "Go on."

"I think David's had enough and I suspect there's about to be a showdown in Vinnie's office within the next day or so. Would be great for Steph to get that on tape."

"Agreed. On my way." _Click_.

I count. Seven words. Damn. I step back inside and begin applying nail polish. Moments later Vinnie exits his office.

"I got a meeting."

I roll my eyes. Yeah, I know what he's meeting and the poor ducks have had enough. Vinnie leaves and I check the door. Locked. I pull out a bobby pin and pick the lock. Success! I walk in and look around. I hear the doorbell for the front office chime and walk out of Vinnie's office. It's Hal and he's smiling.

"Vinnie?"

"Just left."

He nods and gets to work. He checks for bugs first (none. Of course not. My fucking area is bugged but none in here. Bastard.) then sets up two microphones and three video cameras.

"Three cameras? Why three?"

"Gotta get all angles."

I'm up to five words.

Thirty minutes later he's done. He turns to me and grins.

"Motion and voice activated." He winks and gathers his things together. I'm up to nine words.

"So, it will record anyone moving around in here and anyone talking?"

He nods. Damn.

"How will I get a chance to review the video?"

"Email."

Ten. OK, now to go for the prize.

"And Steph? How will she get to view it?"

He motions for me to follow him. Once outside, he grins.

"We know about your campaign to get us to say more than ten words in the office."

I laugh and Hal smiles. He has a cute smile and I never noticed that he also has dimples. "OK, so I'm caught. So?"

"If we get the video we want, we'll have a massive viewing party at RangeMan. We'll invite you. How's that?" I'm counting words and he smiles. "37."

Yeah, counting the number, that's 37 words. "Sounds great. I'm looking forward to it."

He waves and leaves. Hmm …Hal has dimples and a cute smile. Still too intense for me though. Ram however. . .

* * *

"You're a bitch."

Joyce and she's angry. Good. I also gave her William, the nudist, and Earl, who shoots first, thinks second because he's a druggie.

I yawn and stare at her.

"You're such a fucking—"

"I have to write your check, unless you want to wait for Vinnie to come back and do it. Keep talking."

She shuts up. I get the feeling Joyce may be feeling a money pinch. The hair isn't as 70s fabulous as normal and her cuticles are a mess. I wonder which one of the ex-husbands isn't paying up.

I finally start writing her checks and she takes them and leaves. I hit the computer. Hmm …She's being foreclosed on. Divorce decree states that Ex #2 was responsible for signing the title over to her and paying the property taxes, but he hasn't paid in four years. New Jersey and Mercer County put a lien on her house, but since he still hasn't paid, they're pushing it. Tax dodge? Ex #2 also successfully petitioned the court to end his alimony because, as he pointed out, she was married again. At the time of her remarriage, the alimony should have stopped, but it didn't. So he's suing her for repayment of all alimony he paid during and after her third marriage.

I'm laughing my ass off. This is wonderful. Joyce is getting it stuck to her by all the men she's stuck.

She's getting to the end of her alimony with husband #3 because it was rehabilitative alimony, not permanent. They weren't married long enough for her to get that, and her alimony from him will run out in six months. The court rejected her petition for an extension and rejected the petition for an increase. The papers I'm reading show that ex #3 despises her and is thrilled to be done with her. He won't pay her a penny he doesn't have to.

Well, that explains her increased presence here and her eagerness to try to muscle in on a RangeMan skip. She needs money since her ex-husbands are coming after her.

I print copies of all the court filings and put them in my purse. I think I'll take these to ML's and see if she can dig up some gossip.

* * *

**Three days later**

Showtime.

David shows up calm and happy. I'm wondering what's bitten him. He hands me his body receipts and I write his checks. He motions towards Vinnie's door and I nod. Yeah, he's there.

I call RangeMan the moment he walks through the door and ask for Hal.

"Hal?"

"Connie?"

"Showtime."

"10-4." _Click_.

Fifteen minutes later, David exits Vinnie's office, smiling and whistling. He nods at me and leaves.

Vinnie pokes his head out. He's pale.

"He gone?"

"Yeah. You OK?"

Vinnie swallows hard. "Yeah, I'm fine. Look, I need to reduce some expenses around here, so Lula's fat ass is out of a job. Don't hand her any more FTA files."

"What about filing?"

"She doesn't file."

"Yes she does." Lula, you owe me for this.

"Oh yeah? Find me Andy Jabowski's file."

I head right to the J's and dig out the file. Vinnie is stunned. "You filed this."

"Nope. She filed it. It was misfiled, by **you**, in the Y's."

Vinnie's jaw clenches. "Fine. She can continue as the file clerk, but no more FTAs."

I shrug. Vinnie swallows hard.

"And none for Joyce."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really? And what are you going to tell your lady love?"

Vinnie scowls. "I'm a married man. There's nothing going on there."

Vinnie shuts his door and leaves. I laugh.

"Yeah, nothing except Joyce's manicurist bills."

Hal calls 20 minutes later.

"Connie?"

"Hal?"

"You have plans tomorrow, say, 1p.m.?"

"I can be available."

"See you then." _Click_.

I count. Ten. Damn. RangeMen have it down to a science.

* * *

I pull up outside RangeMan and Ram's standing there grinning. Jesus, where's he been all this time? Brown hair, blue eyes, and gorgeous when he smiles. That wavy mane of his is in constant need of a haircut.

"Connie. Good to see you."

"You too." And I mean that. I have space in my bed if you're interested.

Mary Lou pulls up, excited. "OK, what's going on?"

Ram smiles at her. "Mary Lou, glad you could make it. Thought we might have a little viewing party." He scans his card in front of a black pad and the door opens. He motions for us to enter and we walk into a beautiful lobby. This is a really nice building, and I'm glad I'm getting a chance to see it for a second time.

"Unfortunately, Steph's unable to view it with us. She's out at Point Pleasant with the family and having fun, but we decided that there was no need to limit our enjoyment of the video."

Ram's bouncing up and down on his toes and grinning. It's infectious. ML and I are grinning now, wondering what's on this tape.

We hit the elevator and get off at the 3rd floor, same floor as last time, but we walk into a different conference room. ML and I stop and gape at the sight of all the gorgeous men with hard bodies packed into the room.

I feel faint. It's been a while since there was a man in my bed and this is like being presented with a chocolate during Lent. I wonder how my boobs look in this top. I look over and ML looks affected too. Her cheeks are pink and she's wide-eyed.

A short, sweet looking Hispanic woman walks up to us and smiles. "Overwhelming, isn't it?" she whispers. We nod and she giggles. "I'm Ella. You must be ML," ML nods, "and Connie." I nod. "It's a pleasure to meet you ladies. Stephanie's told me so much about both of you."

"Well, she's told us about you too," ML says, falling into perfect 'Burg manners. "The wonderful Ella, the queen of all she surveys, the craftiest woman she knows." ML winks. "And she wasn't just talking about your skill with an embroidery machine."

Ella laughs. "Oh how lovely. Well, come with me. The men have placed a couch in the perfect spot for us."

We walk into the middle of the room and sit on a large leather sofa. It's comfortable and we're just waiting for the show to begin. Finally Hal walks in, smiling, and stands at the front of the room.

"Men." Everyone comes to attention. "We are here to enjoy the further humiliation of the Red-Headed Demon."

"**HUA!**"

ML and I are wide-eyed. Ella is laughing. She looks at us and whispers, "The boys love injecting some pageantry every so often." Another older Hispanic man sits on the arm of the couch next to her. This must be Ella's husband, but I don't know if Steph ever told us his name.

"However," Hal continues, "we must give credit and thanks where they are due. Ms. Rosolli, would you please stand?"

I stand, confused, and the men whistle at me. I smile.

"Ms. Rosolli, Connie, called me with an invitation for a unique opportunity. She said that she wanted to present to us the opportunity to have a good laugh and help the CO at the same time. Anything Vinnie related is always a good laugh, so I eagerly agreed. Please extend your appreciation to Connie for her assistance."

The men rise and give me a standing ovation. A few whistle. I haven't gotten that kind of response from men since I lost my bikini top at Point Pleasant as a teenager. I'm sure I'm red. Hal motions for everyone to die down and he motions for ML to stand.

"As we all know, Mrs. Mary Lou Stankovic is the CO's childhood friend. Further investigation, via female intel networks, revealed even more interesting information. Please thank Mary Lou for her assistance in this endeavor."

Again, cheers and whistles. Mary Lou looks over at Ella and asks, "Female intel networks?"

Ella is giggling. "Gossip. They prefer to call it by the fancy name."

We laugh and the applause dies down. Hal grins. "And now, without any further ado, let's enjoy the show."

The video begins rolling and I'm waiting to see what happened.

* * *

The video is excellent. Hal used high quality cameras for this and I can see Vinnie, sitting at his desk, looking at fetish porn sites. The men start cracking up.

"_Nasty dog."_

"_I'm sure there's a video of someone fucking just that on there." _Groans.

"_Dude, I never want to think about it."_

"_I don't either but hey, you gotta remember the ducks."_

The video has barely begun and I'm laughing.

Moments later, David walks into Vinnie's office and sits. Vinnie scrambles to shut down the porn site and look busy.

"_Vincent, we need to talk."_

"_I'm busy. And how about you have a little respect for a man's space, huh? You just come barging in—"_

"_Fine. I'll go talk to your backers instead."_

Vinnie smirks. _"Good luck with that. You won't make it out alive."_

"_I have and I did."_ Vinnie looks up, confused. "_Harry the Hammer, right? That's your backer. Your father-in-law?_

Vinnie says nothing.

"_Yeah, I recognize that under normal circumstances the last thing a mobster, even one as flea-bitten as Harry, wants to see is a cop, former cop, or any kind of law enforcement, but I gave him an invitation he couldn't refuse._"

Everyone is leaning forward to watch. David sits back in the chair and smiles coldly.

"_I assume you have some time to talk to me now?"_

"_Well, you're yapping. Might as well finish."_

"_How kind."_ I hear a few chuckles. "_Like I said, I decided to go have a talk with your backer. I did some investigating and realized that you're a shit employer. Your former BEA, Morty, was replaced by your cousin Stephanie when he was just out with a burst appendix. Now, you could say that was providence, since he got his ass blown up, but considering he got his ass blown up because he was trying to steal back a truck and file your cousin stole, well …"_

The men are grinning. This is good.

"_Then, let's see. Your cousin breaks her leg, because she has no fucking skill at this job, and her . . . whatever the hell he is to her, the Ranger guy, hires her to run his business. No idea how she's doing in that job and don't really give a fuck as long as she doesn't come back here trying to be a BEA. So, she's out for three months with a broken leg and you replace her before week one is up."_

The men are alternately pissed at his characterization of Steph and proud he's sticking it to Vinnie.

"_Now I'm here. I'll give you credit. I didn't know Joyce was your mistress—"_

"_For God's sake, she is __**not**__ my mistress!"_ The camera has panned back around to Vinnie's face and he looks panicked.

"_My apologies. Your fuck toy."_

Vinnie sinks in the chair. "_Christ alive, you're trying to get me killed."_

"_No, actually, I'm trying to keep you alive."_ David is staring coolly at Vinnie. Everyone is waiting. _"You see, Harry's heard the rumors._" Vinnie sinks lower. _"And he does what I just did. He keeps an eye on Joyce's financial state. Did you know her second ex-husband filed for bankruptcy?"_

Vinnie says nothing, just listens silently.

"_She's about to lose her house because he hasn't paid the property taxes on it for the past four years. He also filed for repayment of alimony. You see, when Joyce married the third time, alimony should have been stopped. It wasn't. So, he's trying to get every penny of it back. Then the last husband, well, she didn't get permanent lifetime alimony from him and it ends in six months. So in six months, Joyce is going to be up that creek without a paddle unless she finds a new source of income to tide her over."_

The men are grinning. This is hilarious. David is prepared for this showdown. "_I've fucked enough gold-diggers to know one when I see one and Joyce reeks of it. I was going to keep her though, because she looks good and she'll do nasty stuff._" He chuckles. _"Then again, you already know she does nasty stuff. Mooooooooo."_

Hal pauses the tape so we can all laugh. ML and I are holding each other's hand tightly. Oh, God, it's wonderful to watch that bitch go down.

"_So Harry's been ignoring the rumors because it was clear that you were simply helping one of Stephanie's friends, giving her the work Stephanie couldn't handle."_ David's voice is ironic and the men are shaking their heads. _"However, now that Stephanie isn't working here and you have a new, competent BEA, he wonders why Joyce even needs to be here. That's more BEAs than you need. Especially since Lula was Stephanie's partner?_" He raises an eyebrow. "_So if you have one competent BEA doing the work, what do you need with the other two women? Especially since I have a 90% success rate so far?"_

David sits back.

"_He and I pondered this question. After all, Lucille is not a jealous woman, but her father will not allow anyone to slander her marriage. Even if her husband is a . . . let's see, how did he describe you? Duck-loving sexual degenerate with the morals and abilities of a neutered tomcat in heat."_

Again, Hal pauses the tape so we can all laugh. One of the men passes two handkerchiefs over for both me and Mary Lou. Our mascara is running, we're laughing so hard.

"_Yes, he and I can't understand why you continue to employ Lula and Joyce as BEAs. Now, I did you a favor by stating that I was interested in Joyce and that if she needed money, she could negotiate with me for her bond files." _David smiles cruelly. "_Makes sense to me. After all, I'm the one losing the money. I should get the pleasure of the negotiation, at a minimum. No need for me to get fucked on the front and back ends like you've been doing."_

Vinnie is red and his hands are trembling.

"_So, here's what we're going to do. You will never give my files to anyone else. You give my files to someone else and I quit. That day. Harry's watching you on the back end and I'm watching the front. We set up a meeting once a month to discuss what files came in and what FTAs I brought back in. You screw either of us and it'll be the last time your dick does something other than piss. We clear?"_

Vinnie is silent.

"_Now, as far as the high bonds, Harry told me I had no hope there. Apparently he fears the Ranger guy enough that I can't get everything. So I'm going to keep working and showing him I can handle everything and that he doesn't need RangeMan. That's my goal because right now I can't meet my child support. That's something you wouldn't know about, but they will put you in jail for being late on child support."_ David stands. _"A former cop in jail is never a good thing so I'm perfectly willing to break your legs to prevent you passing my files around. We clear? Joyce is __**my**__ toy, I don't give a fuck about Lula, and I'll leave Connie alone. I'll treat her like I already do._" A nerve in his jaw twitches and he stands. _"We clear?"_

He gives Vinnie a jaunty wave. "_Always good doing business with you, Vinnie." _He exits the office and the entire room breaks into applause. ML and I are crying with laughter.

Vinnie is screwed and David was the one who did it to him. Joyce has been downgraded from wife to mistress to fuck toy.

Damn shame. Couldn't have happened to a more deserving person.

* * *

**Ram's POV**

As amusing as the viewing party was (and it **was** amusing), David slandered the CO. The insult cannot be allowed to stand. Plus, he thinks he has a hope of getting the high bonds. Best to burst his bubble now. We're too busy to toy with him.

I asked Connie to have David call us in regards to the big bonds. David called almost immediately and we asked him to come to the office to discuss the possibility. He showed up at 10 a.m. and was shown to my office immediately.

"David." I stand and shake his hand. "Ramsay Sinclair, head of Client Services here at RangeMan. Nice to meet you." I motion for him to take a seat. "My apologies for not reaching out to you in advance. We like to meet with all BEAs operating in our territory, to establish friendly relations."

I smile coolly. He's looking around my office and, although he's doing a good job of hiding it, he's nervous. I put every single one of my marksmanship awards, patches and medals from the Army on the walls. I'm making it perfectly clear.

I'm a sniper. A rifleman. A marksman. Fuck with me if you want to.

I sit back in my chair and get comfortable. "Water?" He nods and I pass him a bottle. "I'm waiting for Simon Flynn, the head of Apprehensions and Bonds Enforcement here at RangeMan Trenton. We thought we'd both meet with you at one time."

He leans back, sips the water and smiles. "Great." He nods at the medals. "Army?"

"President's 100 and Special Forces."

He pales. The President's 100 and the Special Forces tabs are two of only four permanent patches in the Army (the others are the Ranger and Sapper). I can wear those on my dress uniform for the rest of my life.

"Impressive."

"Ranger has two. Ranger and Special Forces. Hal, the head here, has two. Sapper and Special Forces. Between the three of us, we have all the prestigious permanent Army patches covered."

He swallows hard.

Simon enters and I smile. Yes, he's feeling fear and has no idea what to expect from Zip. "David Pickens, Simon Flynn." They shake and Zip takes a seat.

"He was admiring my display," I tell Zip, who grins.

"Yours sucks. Hal's is impressive. Mine is impressive. You're just a fucking sniper." We laugh and turn to David, dropping all smiles.

"We came across some information of interest to us," Zip says. I turn on my TV and cue up the video. It's at the beginning of the tape, where he insults Steph. We play the tape and watch him pale. I pause the tape and I look at him, fingers steepled.

"We don't take insults to the Managing Director lightly. She had a 98.5% success rate over four years in an industry in which she had no background, no experience, and no training. Your success rate as a detective in Maine was 74%. Frankly, you know nothing of her background or abilities, so you have no room to insult her. We assume you'll find it within you to alter your opinion quickly."

He swallows hard and nods once. I smile just slightly and motion to Zip.

"Now, we understand that you are interested in taking on the higher bonds."

"Yes, I would like to," he says slowly. "I mean, I have kids. They have needs." He smiles charmingly.

"Well, if you intended to fuck around on your wife, you should've done it in a more discreet manner," Zip says, just as charmingly. David's smile drops. "Of course we did a full background on you. You're in our territory. We needed to know about you. The Managing Director doesn't particularly care for you because of that. She's been in your wife's position. She has little sympathy for you."

"Your Managing Director has no right to use her personal opinion of me against me. This is business."

"Correct," Zip says coldly. "She's not using her personal opinion against you. We're telling you that we're not using your personal situation for or against you. Your child support issues are your own. You solve them. In the meantime, if you attempt to take the high bonds," Zip and I both lean forward, "no one will find your body," Zip hisses.

We both sit back and watch David swallow hard. His hands are trembling.

"We have Harry's number. That's why he pawned you off on us. That's also why Vinnie won't pass you shit. So you have no hope of getting anything more than what you're getting now," Zip says. "However, because we're not complete shits and your children do matter, we'll give you a hint." David sits up. "Douglas Prather, in Cherry Hill, is another bondsman we work with. He's looking for someone to take his low bonds as his assistant bondsman recently retired. We're handling them at the moment and we don't handle anything under $50,000."

David is nodding thoughtfully. "Thank you."

I snort. "Don't thank us so fast. We expect that your proceeds will reach your children, the innocent victims of your wandering dick, not . . . let's see . . . Simon, you have that list?"

"I do," Zip says, smiling. He riffles through some papers. "Let's see, there's Joyce, the neighborhood handle, Mary, Patricia, Lisa, Monica, Janice, Laura, my oh my but you've been a busy boy," Zip says, amused.

David is stunned. We smile. We sent Mary Lou a gift certificate for her and Lenny to go out to dinner to thank her for digging this information up.

"And we've only been digging for a week," Zip says. I play the part of the tape where David tells Vinnie that Joyce is now _his_ play toy. I pause and we look at David, who is pale. "Like you said, you have a play toy. That's what you negotiated for. Develop some self-control.

After all, if you can't manage it, we'll be more than happy to help you help yourself."


	21. The Housekeepers' War, Part VI

**The Housekeepers' War, Part IV—Boston, Part II**

**Maria's POV **

Boston! I have to admit, I'm looking forward to being in Boston in the heat of summer. It's nowhere near as hot here as it is in Miami. The cooling breezes and cold drinks are keeping me hydrated and happy. I'm met at baggage claim by two handsome young men, Mark and Rodney, the XO and liaison for the branch. They fetch my bags and escort me to the waiting SUV, where they fill me in on office procedure and tell me that if I need anything, just let them know. They don't cover grocery procedures, so I ask. Again, they have the same grocery procedures as Trenton and Atlanta.

Things I'm requiring in order to return to Miami: respect, consideration, grocery procedures.

I'm also done cooking those heavy meals. I've noticed something in my trip around the company: these are also very manly men and they don't complain about **anything** the housekeeper cooks. Max said it best:

"_Ms. Maria, if left to our own devices, we'd gorge on soul food around here. That's part of the housekeeper's job, to be our shield against our own bad behavior, our own tendencies. If the housekeeper serves us healthy meals, we don't have to kill ourselves as hard in the gym to keep these bodies."_

I didn't give his words much thought at the time, but in the days since I've thought about what he said and realized he was right. Part of my job was to make the diet easier for the men. The Miami boys spend hours in the gym lifting weights and running and they joke and flex and make Arnold Schwarzenegger noises, which have amused me to no end. But I wonder if the reason they spend so much time in the gym is because my meals clock in around 4500 calories, if not more. Of course, I've made what they asked for, which was the cuisine of my youth and it made me feel good, but I also spend all day in the kitchen. I had no free time in Miami, but in every location I've visited, I've had plenty of free time. Not cooking those heavy, labor intensive meals has freed me to go out and do other things.

I'm also done with laundry. I reread the contract and I'm adopting Ella's laundry procedures. Armando is a married man, so he rarely takes advantage of laundry service. Thomas and Diego are both single, so I will occasionally get a load from them, but not like the rest of the boys. They wait until they're nearly out of clean clothes, then drop loads of laundry off for me. Well, that's over. Miami gets the Trenton laundry service model. Maria is not a maid!

Last decision I've made: I'm getting out and getting a social life again. I've spent five years mourning my husband, missing him, and treating the Miami boys as if they were my children. Well, the past six weeks have shown me that the building will not fall apart if I get out and live a little. Perhaps I can go to some salsa classes, get back out to the beach more, start doing the things that make me happy. I can serve in the church more if I make time for myself. I don't expect to find another man like Armand and god help me if I do, but to love and be in love again? I don't think that's so unreasonable. I'm still a good looking woman. I still turn the occasional head. I'm going to get out there and see if I can find a handsome, polite man who can serve as my escort on occasion.

We arrive at RangeMan Boston and Mark carries my things to my apartment. He was named XO shortly before I started at Miami, but I've heard a lot about him and he seems nice, if a bit forceful, as I've heard.

"Thank you, Mark. I appreciate the assistance. What floor is the kitchen on?"

"6th floor, Maria. Susan left her binders for you and if you need any help, just let any RangeMan know."

I smile. "Wonderful. This is just like Trenton and Atlanta."

He smiles and turns to leave then turns back around. "Trenton? You spent time in Trenton?"

"Yes, I had a wonderful time there. Such an interesting location."

"Really?" He smiles charmingly and sits down. "What's it like? I was there once for the skip tracing workshop, but I had to leave right after that. We're looking forward to the CO's visit here."

"OH! Well, I guess I can say that the first thing that surprised me was how military the office is. I learned later that it has the most vets and most Special Forces men, and it surprised me." I smiled. "All those manly men and they love their granola! I was so accustomed to making _pappas rellenas_ and _pepitas_ that it was odd to hear that they preferred lighter fare."

Mark nods, smiling. Rodney walks in and stands in the doorway, looking confused. I turn to him. "I was just starting to tell Mark about my trip to Trenton."

Rodney's eyes get big. "Wait a minute. Let me grab Pat. News from Trenton is rare."

I frown and consider this. Interesting. Well, not completely unexpected. Those boys could be utterly silent when they chose to be. Patrick joins us and they nod for me to continue. They look absolutely intrigued.

"Well, I guess the thing I noticed most is how much they adore the CO. I didn't know a lot about Stephanie before I arrived, but I got to spend a month with her there and I have to say, she's sharp." They nod, smiling. "She's also very sweet and very caring. She'd just gotten out of her cast while I was there so they have her working with a personal trainer to strengthen her leg and get her up to female military standards."

"You mean, she didn't meet physical standards?" Rodney asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

I shake my head. "Nope. Apparently she was legendary in the office for her love of sweets, candy, cake, all contraband. The biggest part of my job was cooking for her and that little girl can put away a plate, let me tell you. But when I talked to Hal about it, he said that when Tank, Lester and Bobby come back to clear her, they want her at 65%. They don't know what standard will be set for women in the company, if any are ever hired, so they've decided to work her close to the male standard."

I see their eyebrows rise. I wonder why?

"Otherwise, she's a sweetheart. She doesn't miss details, she doesn't forget nuances and she definitely cares about getting it right. She treated every single one of the men as if they were her big brothers and the boys treated her like their little sister in the building, but the moment they left the building or they were in front of 'outsiders', she was the boss. They were very clear about that."

"You said she cares about getting it right. What do you mean by that?" Mark asks.

I frown and think for a moment. I'm not silly nor am I stupid. I heard the gossip in Atlanta and Trenton about Mark's behavior toward Stephanie and I will **not** stand for it. Imagine! Treating that young lady like that simply because he's upset that she was named to lead the company instead of him. I'm not ignorant that these boys are pumping me for information so I'll give them just enough to satisfy but not enough to hurt that child.

I take a seat and smile at him. "Well, it means a lot to her that the Leadership Core put her in charge. She never expected it. Apparently she was placed on the paperwork for emergency preparedness purposes and she didn't even know. Being asked to run the company under these circumstances was an honor to her and she's determined to get it right.

What little I could get out the Trenton boys is that Ranger has been serving as her mentor ever since she became a bounty hunter and he considers her one of his closest friends, maybe even equal to Tank. He hid in her apartment when he was accused of murder, and I think we all know that the impersonator shot him in her apartment."

The boys nod. That's common knowledge in the company.

"She definitely considers him her closest friend, and the fact that Tank, Lester, and Bobby asked her to do this while Ranger was gone and they were in San Antonio," I shake my head, "she's determined to get it right for them. To not make mistakes. To make Tank and Lester and Bobby proud."

The boys look at each other. Uh oh. Something I said was significant.

"Are you saying that it wasn't Ranger who asked her to do it? That it was the rest of Leadership Core?" Patrick asks slowly.

Ah, so they thought it was Ranger. I nod. "Apparently they offered her the job but Ranger had to talk her into it. She's never wanted to join the company, told me she was adamant about that, and was dead set on refusing their offer until he convinced her that he trusted her to do it and that if his partners believed in her, she should believe in herself."

Something about what I've just said was very significant. Each man is sitting back and nodding, almost subconsciously. None of them are smiling anymore.

"So, when is she scheduled to come here?" I ask, smiling. Let see how much I can get out of you.

They look at each other. "We don't know," Rodney replies. "Each location learns about her plans about two weeks in advance and that's it. She's invited each of us to join her at the beach this summer. Pat's up first, in a little less than three weeks."

I smile at Patrick, who looks pensive. "Well, take advantage of that time to pick her brain. She's sweet and she really wants to do what's best for each branch and what's best for the company as a whole. The Atlanta boys were forever asking her opinion, and knowing that she agreed with them or was giving them approval to move forward with a plan made them giddy." I grin. "Ever since she gave them approval to set up a temporary branch in Charlotte, they've been walking on water."

Now the boys look shocked. "They're setting up a branch in Charlotte?" Mark asks, stunned.

I grin. "Whatever was in their review was so good that she authorized them to set up a temporary office in Charlotte. Danny and Hal have been trash talking each other about it because they're determined to knock off whoever's number one. Something about no strippers at the party and trying to decide where it's going to be if they manage it."

I'm well aware that Boston is number one, and the looks of panic on their faces are priceless. So they didn't know about the establishment of a Charlotte branch. I'll have to tell Ella I told them, but I can see that the knowledge has thrown them completely. Atlanta is already a massive branch. The addition of Charlotte means that Atlanta could very well become number one for years to come.

"Do you know how she's doing it? I mean, what's the standard? Is it still profitability margins?" Patrick asks.

I nod. "I think so. Hal was pouting because he complained that since she made Atlanta even bigger, they would always be the most profitable, but she reminded him that it was about percentages, not dollar amounts. Apparently, he's edging Danny on the percentages right now and close to edging whoever's top." I stop, cock my head to the side and tap my lips. "Do you boys know who is number one?"

They look at each other. Mark answers quietly. "We are. Have been for the past four years."

"Ah!" I nod. Perhaps I'm a better actress than I remember. I smile. "Well, all I can say is watch your rearview. Trenton and Atlanta are gunning for you."

Each of the men smiles and thanks me before leaving.

* * *

The call with Ella was quiet at first. I wondered if I was about to be fired.

"So, if I understand you correctly, you fed them information about Stephanie. Talked to them about how she's treated, how she's working to meet standards, how she was elevated? You told them she never wanted to be a RangeMan? You told them about the Charlotte branch?"

"Yes, Ella."

It's silent on the line before I hear laughter. Quiet laughter that gets louder and louder until I hear Luis pick up the phone. "Hello? Who is this?"

"Luis, this is Maria. Is Ella OK?"

"Yes," Ella replies, "I'm fine. Wonderful. Ecstatic even. Maria, you have no idea how you've just helped Stephanie. Luis, talk to Maria while I get Hal."

Luis and I make small talk. Soon after, I hear Hal on the line.

"Maria, I hear you're feeding information to the enemy in Boston. You know I give mat time for that," Hal says teasingly.

"I'm sorry, Hal, but I saw that they were going to attempt to pump me for information the entire time I was here so I thought I better feed them something to keep them happy now."

"Well, you did an excellent job. I can't wait to call Danny and let him know Mark's on to us. Plus, the things you told them will ease Stephanie's way to Boston. I couldn't have done better myself. As a matter of fact, let's talk about how to make this work for Stephanie. I'm going to talk to Hector and we'll call you back. Are you willing to assist us, Maria?"

I have to swallow the lump in my throat. "I'm glad I can help. I'll do anything to help Stephanie achieve."

"Oh believe me, Maria," Hal says, "You did it today."

* * *

**Hal's POV**

Finally! A way to get some information about Boston without upsetting the apple cart. I feel bad, because I'm about to do to Boston what Boston does to everyone else, but not bad enough to stop. My goal is to protect Sis, not pander to Mark's insanity. Ends justify the means? I hate that saying, but for the first time, I am in complete agreement.

I immediately go in search of Manny and Hector. This plan requires deviousness. I consider the situation and call Ella to join us. I am proposing using her employee. I better cover all bases.

Everyone arrives and takes a seat. Ella and I update Manny and Hector on what Maria told us. Both begin to grin.

"_Well, at a minimum, I say we run a campaign of misinformation on Boston," _Manny says.

"_OK, do you have a plan?_" I ask.

"_Well, the first thing we need to do is determine what our goals are. What will we consider success?"_

"_Annihilation,"_ I reply. I'm joking. Kinda. Everyone laughs and shakes their heads. "_Well, we want to know what Boston is up to. What's the mood like? What's the view of the CO? What is Mark up to and why is he spying on her?"_ Well, that's what I want to know.

Hector grins. "_Hal wants to strip the Boston men bare."_ He and Ella laugh but I nod.

"_I don't want Steph walking into a fight. I want to know that whatever's going on in Boston is OK. I don't want to see her disrespected. We already know Miami is going to do it and I'm prepared for that. Boston? I want to know what's going on."_

"_So, why don't you boys just ask the Boston men?"_ Ella asks.

"_Because Trenton and Boston are the only RangeMan locations with men who are completely loyal to their XO and who won't leak,"_ Manny replies. I smirk. _"The Boston men are as likely to give information about the Boston happenings as Trenton is."_

Ella sits back and nods.

"_That's why we need Maria for this, Ella. I know you don't like the idea, but it would be great if we could use Maria as a mole for two weeks. Just to get an idea of what the attitude toward the CO is like."_

Ella is quiet. We can't move forward until Ella agrees. Finally, Ella nods.

"_I don't like the idea of setting the housekeepers against the men because it's a trust situation, but you're right. This is about Stephanie's protection. We need to know how the Boston men feel about her."_

"_Great,"_ Manny replies. _"So here's what we want her to do. We just need her to quietly bring Steph up in conversations around the men. We know they'll pump her for information, so we'll give her a list of topics to talk about. Some of it will be true, some of it won't. We need to see their reactions to it. Given what you said about their reactions to the news about the Charlotte branch, we need to know what other bits of company news have made it to Boston."_

Ella frowns. _"Well, given that the Boston boys know about Charlotte, I think we better give Danny a heads up."_

I agree. I write that in my folio as a to-do.

Hector and Manny continue to plot and plan. I leave to handle the bridge.

Finally, we'll have some answers soon.

* * *

"The boys here don't know what to think of the CO," Maria says.

Steph is with us this time and we're getting our first bits of news back. Sis looks confused.

"What do you mean, they don't know what to think of me?"

"Well, apparently, Mark was worried about your selection. Nothing about you was appropriate for the office of CO, in his opinion. You graduated at the bottom of your class, you got into this field after being laid off, from a mob-connected company no less, you had to blackmail family to get a job, and you can't capture a skip without making headlines. None of that shows success in anything you've managed to do so far. The boys here checked out your background, made calls to Trenton newspapers and such, and found that it's all true. All of this is what the boys here are telling me, Stephanie, not my opinion."

"I'm aware, Maria. Go on." Steph is pissed now.

"So, it seems that Rod and Pat told Mark to shut up about you and they've been running interference for him. The men have been told that any questions or comments that they have about the CO are to be brought to them, not Mark. The only place where they can't run interference is the suggestions box you have, which is why you don't get a lot of suggestions from Boston. They're waiting to meet you, during your review, before suggesting anything."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because if Stephanie is as bad as Mark says she is, they don't want to follow Stephanie off a cliff. If she's much better than Mark says she is, they'll be willing to listen. They're trying to find out about you from Atlanta and NYC, trying to get a picture of who you are as the CO. What they're hearing is good, so opinions here are improving. Whatever you did at Liam's 'exit interview' gained a lot of respect around here from the men."

I'm furious. Steph's jaw clenches.

"OK, Maria. Anything else?"

"Not yet, dear. I'm keeping my ear to the ground for you."

"Thank you, Maria. Goodnight." Click.

Steph turns and looks at us. Everyone–me, Manny, Hector, Ella, and Luis–looks furious.

Steph stands. "I leave for the beach Friday. Time with the family." She grimaces. "I'll take that call privately from now on. I have specific things I want her to check on that I don't want all of you knowing about yet."

Everyone nods.

Boston is dead meat.

* * *

**Mark's POV**

Maria's been here for one week and it's been the best thing to happen since Stephanie took over. Finally! A way to get information about Stephanie from an independent source. The only negative is that it's clear that Maria adores her, but at least she's realistic about her abilities.

"I chatted with Rose last night," Maria says, while tossing a salad. "Apparently Charlotte has cost overruns. Danny and Stephanie were a bit stunned and they're working with Ryan to try to straighten it out, but it's not going like they hoped."

I'm mentally cataloging everything she's saying right now and so is Pat. We've never done so much KP duty in our lives, but Maria will chat freely while cooking so it's a sacrifice we're willing to make. Maria is horribly indiscreet, but I'm also realizing exactly how much information the housekeepers have. I've never asked Susan for information on what she's hearing about what's going on around the company and that was a mistake. The housekeepers are a great untapped resource.

"Stephanie is trying her best to save it before it goes completely underwater, but Rose says that Ella says that Hal says it's not looking good. Hal's thrilled. It means Danny's off his butt and he can concentrate on taking you down, Mark."

I smile. Good fucking luck, Hal. You're brand new. You're still trying to figure out the difference between your ass and elbow.

"Well, best of luck to him," Pat says. "We haven't been in the lead for four years for nothing. We've learned a lot."

She giggles and we set all the dishes out in the break room for the men. I motion for Maria to join me in my office and Pat and Rod join us, closing the door.

"Seriously, Maria, I thank you for telling us this. We're concerned." I look at Pat and Rod and they're nodding. "We want to help the CO in any way that we can. What does she need? Men? Advice? Ideas? We all love this company. We'll do anything we can to help."

Maria looks surprised, but she smiles. "I'm not sure what she needs, Mark. Why don't you call her and ask her?"

I snort and Pat shakes his head. "The CO is. . . "he looks at me, "not exactly fond of Mark. He realizes that part of that is his own fault."

I smile ruefully. Very true. I've fucked myself when it comes to her and I'm beginning to truly regret it. Just because she's in charge didn't mean I couldn't help and advise her. Shit, that's what Ranger expected of me, and I screwed up by making her feel as if I were her enemy. Then again, I'm the senior XO. She should be asking me for my advice. Instead, she's relying on Hal, who's brand new, and Danny, who apparently can't build or run a branch effectively.

"As it is," Rod says, "it sounds like she needs help now and she may not trust us or give us a chance until after our review. We'll probably be last since we're the best run, which means she'll go weeks or months without what she needs. We want to help her now. If she's having problems, we don't want her to fail."

"We're sincere in this, Maria. Stephanie may not like me, and I recognize that it's all my fault if she doesn't, but this is still Ranger's company. If nothing else, I want her to succeed to ensure that his company is still standing when he returns from this op. So she may not accept my help, or Pat's or Rod's, because of me. So would you please just quietly sound out Ella and ask if the CO is willing to turn to us?"

Maria smiles and Rod passes her a handkerchief. We've learned that Maria is a leaky woman. "I'll do that. I most certainly will." She smiles and exits my office. We hit the break room and quickly make a plate then escape back to my office.

"OK, she's clearly in over her head," Rod says, shaking his head. "Shit!" He looks at me and shakes his head. "I owe you an apology, Mark. You called it, like you always do. She's unqualified and she's screwing up. Now what?"

"We need to right the ship. If she's steering us into the rocks, then we need to step our performance up here in Boston to offset her inevitable losses," Pat says.

"I agree. The problem is we don't know exactly how badly she's miscalculated," I reply. We take a few minutes to dig in while considering what to do. "Look, I know this. I fucked up badly with her, but I love this company. I've been here since the beginning, done everything I could to ensure its survival and care deeply about its profitability and long term success. I've never questioned Ranger's decisions before and I'm not questioning this one. I'm questioning Lester's decision here. If this had been Ranger's idea, I'd ignore my gut and let her do her thing."

"But it _was_ Lester's," Pat says, frowning. "I mean, Les is brilliant too and he's no idiot. Plus, he and the CO are supposed to be close friends. Now that I'm thinking about this, I'm finding it hard to believe that she wouldn't have mentioned this to him, at minimum."

Rod starts nodding slowly. "I agree. Something's not right here. The entire LC believes in her. No way she hides something like this from them and even if she does, Danny and Bobby are pretty tight. Danny isn't crazy enough to allow her to screw his branch and Charlotte without saying something. And we all know Ryan will call Tank in a heartbeat. Those two are both tightfisted when it comes to money."

We sit back and think. Rod and Pat have made excellent points.

"Fine. Then where is Maria getting her information? How likely is it that she might lie?" I ask. Pat chews his lip and Rod stares into the distance. "What would Maria's motivation be? It's clear she thinks Stephanie is a darling. She would be more likely to lie on her behalf than say something false."

Their shoulders slump. That Maria adores the CO is perfectly clear to every man in Boston. No way she lies about her. We sit in silence and try to determine what to do.

"Plus, we know that she's been given carte blanche. Anything she wants to do, she has the authority. So why run her decisions by LC if they're going to back her anyway? Danny and Ryan might be in the same position I am: unable to say anything because the LC is going to back her up. Look at how Tank handled the Miami petition. He backed her without even listening to it the first time. I mean, Armando was thrilled, but in the long term it means that decisions we feel are questionable are going to have their support regardless of our objections."

"Yeah, but it's Miami," Pat says. "What was that petition about?"

"Dunno," I reply. "Armando said it was some bullshit he tried to stop, which is why he was thrilled when they backed her without listening to it, but the greater message is this: If you can't even take a petition to upper management, a petition 70% of the men have signed onto, and get a hearing on it, then why should we, the Core Teams, believe that we have a shot at being heard by them? They've **always** listened to our petitions. Now, because of Stephanie, they won't?"

The guys are grimacing and slump in the seats. That petition thing has been bugging me for a while. Does that mean I couldn't get Ranger to listen to me if I disagreed with one of Stephanie's decisions? There has to be a review process. There **has** to be a way for men to express disagreement with management and be OK. I have it here and if the men don't like my decision, they were able to take it to the Leadership Core. Now they would take it to Stephanie, but if Stephanie just backed me without even listening to them, well . . . this is Boston, birthplace of the American Revolution. That spirit is still strong here. We like being able to present our grievances.

That is one of the many things that has made RangeMan such a great company to work for. You could always present your grievances to Ranger or Tank. They might not agree but at least they heard you out. The very fact that you could get 70% of the men to sign on to something meant they had to take it seriously and they **always** did.

I sigh. "So far we know she might be in over her head and attempting to save a branch that's failing. So let's see if she really pays attention to the company. If she does, then I'm sure she'll call. If she doesn't, then she's in over her head and our actions will help right the ship. If she doesn't call, I'll confess our actions during the XO week at the beach."

I go to my desk and pull my folder of top ideas. Pat and Rod slowly begin smiling.

"Pull your best ideas, Pat. You too, Rod. We'll quietly implement one and see how it goes." I riffle through my folder and spot one. A massive grin takes over my face and I hold it up. The guys grin.

"Let's make sure Ranger's company doesn't go down the tubes. I've never allowed that before and I won't allow it now."


	22. I Stand By My Choices

**Chapter 52.9: I stand by my choices**

**Lula's POV**

Mrs. Carol Jean cooks a traditional Louisiana breakfast the next morning and gives me another reason to love her. I swear, I wish this woman had been my momma. She cares and she knows how to smother shrimp and grits in cheese and butter.

"Have I met all the family? I remember you mentioning your mother-in-law. Is she still alive? Is your mother still alive?

Mrs. Carol Jean shakes her head. "My momma dead of cancer. Never knew my daddy. My mother-in-law is still alive but that's like asking 'bout Tank's daddy. He never goes to see her, doesn't talk about her and doesn't acknowledge her. She believed her son, never believed Pierre was Antoine's. Don't open that can of worms."

Got it. I won't make the same mistake twice.

I leave the house and drive over to Houston. I'm glad Tank has a navigation system in this car; I get lost twice trying to get to the Cheesecake Factory me and Chenae agreed on.

I finally arrive and I just barely stopped sweating. That Escalade got a good air conditioner. I walk over to the restaurant and stop short. Chenae is there with two friends. She sees me and smiles. I don't trust that smile.

"Tallulah, this is Amitrice and Christina. They're friends of mine." She leans in and whispers, "I tried to ditch them but the moment they found out where I was going, they demanded to come along."

I don't believe this for a minute but I nod at the ladies. She hands me a shopping bag and I look inside. Two Intro to Social Work books. I thank her for the books and immediately take those back out to the car. I walk back in and they've been seated but the hostess takes me right to them. We're seated and they all look at each other.

"Have you ever been here, Tallulah?"

"Lula, please, and yes. There's one right across the street from my favorite mall."

They nod and we all agree on appetizers and entrees. I'm thinking about how long the drive to San Antonio is and I order a slice of cheesecake and an entrée for Tank.

"Wow . . . That's a lot of food," Christina says, eyes wide. I look at her closely. All three of these girls are half my size and they order like it.

"I ordered something for Tank, just in case he hasn't eaten when I get home."

"Tank?"

"Pierre," Chenae says. The girls nod.

"I'm so jealous of Chenae. She's so lucky to have a big brother who cares about her education. She didn't have to make difficult decisions about loans and work-study like the rest of us did. She had time to study and pledge and do all that stuff," Christina says. The girls laugh and Chenae sticks her tongue out.

"Yeah, but my brother's standards are high. Very high. He only wants the best and that's what he deserves. He demands excellence and I made sure not to disappoint."

Is this some kinda backhanded comment at me? I take a sip of my water and smile. No need to accuse the girl yet. It mighta just been an innocent comment.

"So you girls pledged a sorority?" They all grin and nod, smiling. They throw up their little hand signals and I got no damn idea what that meant. "What did you pledge?"

"Alpha Kappa Alpha! The first and the finest black Greek letter organization for women," Amitrice answers.

I grin. "What's the colors?"

"Salmon pink and apple green," Chenae says.

"Oh! I love those colors." I laugh. "I love 'em so much that Tank told me that those two colors absolutely could not be in our home."

All smiles drop. "Our sorority is about more than just colors."

I blink. "I wasn't saying nothing about your organization. Just that I love those colors."

It's quiet before the conversation picks up again. We spend the next hour chatting and I relax. They're smart girls and they talk about their on-campus life and what it's like to be in college. I'm soaking it up. I'm thinking I really will go into social work. I can see where I can make a difference and, unlike my future sister-in-law, salary won't matter as much to me.

Finally, they run out of college stuff to talk about so they start asking me questions. After ten minutes, I see what they're up to. They're trying to dig into my history again. It becomes blatant when Amitrice turns to me.

"So Lula, I understand you were quite the woman about town in New Jersey. What did you do?"

Now, I'm no idiot. I know that's another way of sayin' prostitute. I learned all the different ways to say it. So I play stupid.

"Woman about town?" I frown. "No, I don't know that many people."

They look at each other. "Really? I was led to believe you had an extensive network. You've been in New Jersey for how long? At least 20 years, right?"

"Closer to ten years." 14 years, 8 months. What the hell! I thought me and Chenae made progress last night. What's this about?

"So, what did you do, Lula?" Christina asks. "Chenae said you were involved in independent sales," she smirks.

OK, that's blatant. "Not that it's any of your business, Christina, but I was a solo businesswoman. I had a good. I sold it." I take a sip of water, motion for the waiter, and ask for Tank's food to go. Now.

"No disrespect intended, Lula," she responds smoothly. "Chenae told us you were a businesswoman and I'm always interested in hearing about female entrepreneurs. What was your business?"

Damn. You really gonna push this, huh? "I sold something you girls give away for free." I smile coldly and take another sip of water to stop me from saying anything else. All three blush and look at me in astonishment. No one has a comeback for that. The waiter arrives with Tank's food and I dig in my purse for my wallet. I pull two twenties and look at all three girls. Chenae is angry and the friends are embarrassed and looking at Chenae.

"I see what you three are doing. You think that just because I don't have your fancy college education and degrees I can't think. Well, here's something new for you, ladies. I'm not stupid. I just don't have the piece of paper that you do. I understand what you're saying."

I lean forward and glare at them. Chenae's still angry and looks ready to cry.

"None of you could have lived my life for a single day. You wouldn't have made it. You all have family you depend on and Chenae, you have a brother who loves you. You didn't have to make **my** hard choices in life so that don't give you any right to get uppity with me."

I lean back and look at her, cold. "Instead of doing the smart thing, which would be trying to get to know your big brother's new woman, you decided to come here and act a fool. Worse, you pull your friends into it. You're the baby and he loves you but honey, he loves me **more**. I'm gonna be the wife. You're the sister. **Those** are the facts of life."

I stand and drop the twenties on the table to cover my part of lunch. "Your Momma told me that she considers your brother an excellent judge of character. So do your other sisters. So that shoulda been your first clue that maybe I'm not as bad as you want me to be."

I walk out, furious. I need to go shoe shopping. Where's Macy's?

* * *

I'm finally done being angry. It's after dinner and it's late but my phone hasn't rung yet. I look; no missed calls. I drive back to the apartment and enter the living room. No Tank. I slip his dinner into the fridge (glad I asked them to pack it on ice. This 100 degree weather is ridiculous!) and take a shower before walking into our bedroom.

Tank's in the bed waiting on me. He sits the book down (he reads some damn thick books) and hands me a glass of water. I don't say anything, just slide under the covers, drink the water and roll my hair. I look over at him and he has that damn blank face on.

"Better?" I nod. "What happened?"

I bite my lip to keep from crying. "Did you even wonder where I was?"

He pulls out his phone. The Escalade has a GPS tracking device and I can see the dot showing that the car is outside. I lean back against the pillows. I don't want to talk about this yet.

Tank puts the phone on the charger and reaches for me. I don't have to speak for the next two hours.

* * *

"Chenae called me."

I clench my jaw. "What she tell you?"

"Nothing you haven't heard before and nothing I haven't ignored before." I swallow but I got a big lump in my throat. "I told you that you come first, Lula. You shouldn't have been afraid to come talk to me."

"I'm not afraid to talk to you."

"Then can you explain why the truck was halfway to Austin today?" I sigh and wiggle next to him. He pops my hip. "Not yet. Give the Sergeant some recovery time."

I giggle. "He's never needed it before."

"He doesn't need it now, but I want to understand what happened."

Shit. _Sigh_. "I was angry." Tank is rubbing my back. "I wanted to make some headway with her. Yo momma and sisters told me about her, about how you practically raised her." I smile and kiss his nipple. The sergeant bobs his appreciation and I feel Tank smile. "It made me love you all over again. She's important to you, and I was willing to set aside the way we met to get to know her, just like I did for Wilma and Thelma. She threw it back in my face, put my business on front street. Pissed me off because she threw my second chance back in my face. It hurt because I thought me and her made progress yesterday. I was starting to like the girl."

Tank sighs. "How do you want me to handle it?" I look at him. "I'm gonna handle it, Lula Bear, but I'm not making moves that will piss you off later. I prefer harmony in my home. I don't like coming home to a pissed off Lula."

I laugh and snuggle under him. I'm thinking about how to get the point across. "What were you getting her for a graduation gift?"

"New car. I was trying to decide between a Honda CR-V or a Ford Explorer."

"She was driving a new Camry."

Tank nods. "I bought it when she graduated valedictorian from high school."

"So that car is only three years old?" He grunts and I'm stunned. "Why she need a new car? The car she got is practically new!"

Tank rubs my back in silence. Finally, he speaks. "OK. She forfeits her graduation gift from me. Good compromise. You got an objection to me pitching in for her graduation party?"

"Who's paying?"

"Me, Wilma and Thelma."

"Nope. Ya'll celebrating her success jointly. That's fine."

"Fine. She loses her graduation gift and I'm not paying for grad school."

"Were you gonna pay for grad school?"

Tank nods. "It wasn't fair that I paid for part of Wilma and Thelma's grad degrees, then cut Chenae off, so I was gonna do it. Now she's lost that. I made it clear that disrespecting you was the same as disrespecting me. She didn't believe me. She will now."

* * *

**Tank's POV**

Flashback—Three years ago

Bobby's arrived for his annual volunteer trip to New Orleans. Momma's been trying to fatten him up, so Bobby's been running miles and miles at the track in Carencro. Normally I love it when Bobby joins me here to help rebuild the city, but I want to break him this year. It's not his fault that Chenae's decided my brother is handsome, but still. . .

That's my Baby Shug. She's gotta quit looking at him like that. He's way too old for her.

Bobby's amused. Chenae is definitely trying to impress him by acting older than her age. Momma told me to shut up and quit giving my friend the evil eye. Apparently this is some rite of passage for women, flirting with older men. Unlike Momma, Chenae is trying her skills on a good man, one who will remember that he's looking at a child and leave her alone but allow her to practice on him. Fine.

But I'm watching Bobby. Like a hawk.

Chenae starts college this fall and she's been telling Bobby about her intention to go into social work, so he suggests that she come with us and volunteer. Bobby usually volunteers with the Red Cross or Health Care for the Homeless. This year it's HCH but I'm working with the Red Cross. Chenae opts for HCH with him.

We travel to New Orleans and I arrange for Chenae to have her own room. They returned to the hotel the first few nights and Bobby's eye was twitching each time. That's unusual for him. Meanwhile, Chenae complained about everything at HCH. The people, the smells, the paperwork, the policies and procedures. I could see she was miserable and asked her if she wanted to come to the Red Cross with me.

Nope. Momma said it wasn't going to happen. Bobby's handsome and sophisticated. She'll follow him all summer, even while hating it.

On Friday, we drive the two hours back to Momma's. While Chenae's helping Momma in the kitchen, I decide to ask Bobby about it. I find him on the porch escaping Chenae and smile mentally.

"She's gotta change majors," was his first comment.

"You took her to a homeless shelter to volunteer. It might be the wrong thing for her."

He looks at me. "Social work is, by its very nature, people centric. It's about responding to the personal challenges people face and attempting to help them overcome them, by providing encouragement or resources or both. In this case, I asked the volunteer coordinator to give Chenae a simple assignment in patient relations, since she wants to go into social work. Something greater than sitting at a desk. Allow her to interact with people, that's all." He tilts his head at me. "It's not a lot of work and your sister is whining about it. She's not cut out for social work, Tank. Encourage her to go for a different degree."

I stare at him. "She was overwhelmed. Perhaps she would do better as a researcher."

He snorts. "She'd still have to do field work. I watched her, Tank. She's ill at ease with people she considers her social inferiors. She visibly reacted to the conditions of the homeless and that made them uncomfortable and embarrassed. And angry. I had to pull your sister in with me at one point because she was making it clear that one man's smell was getting to her."

He looks at me and shakes his head. "I want you to think about this. Are you comfortable with your sister working with the least of them? Working with people like the homeless, like you, like your family? Is she ready to work with juvenile offenders? Has she really thought about this profession?"

That stings. I don't like the implied classism. "I know you come from money, Bobby, but I never thought of you as a snob."

He hangs his head for a moment and blows out a frustrated breath. "Tank. You miss the point. First, I've **never** judged you or your family. I accept your mother's kind offer to stay in her home every time I visit and I remind myself not to break your brother's bones. Give me some credit. I'm acknowledging that your family, when you were a child, would be the kind of family a social worker would be interested in helping. Ms. Lucille helped you because you were a troubled juvenile in need. Your mother could have used help to escape your dad and support her kids. That's what I meant."

Bobby and I lean on the porch rails and I think about his words. I'm sensitive about my family, but he's right. We could have used help as kids.

"**I** volunteer among those who need the most help. I put my life on the line to protect my country's interests. With all my skills and experience, I could run a fucking concierge medical service and put this shit behind me, but no. I'm in New Orleans writing massive checks and putting my skills where my money is. I'm serving and volunteering where it's needed most, in New Orleans, not in Atlanta, where **my** Mom could spend the evenings fattening me up."

He blows out another frustrated breath. "I suggested your sister come with us to show her what the profession is really like. She's choosing it now because she loves you and because Lucille Graves made such a difference in your life, but is that the right profession for **her**? Wilma and Thelma? They're people people. Chenae? Chenae needs to get a business degree. Social work is not for her."

* * *

I ask Chenae to join me in San Antonio within the week. No excuses. So Chenae shows up promptly at 8 a.m. Saturday. I'm just getting back from my jog and Lula's in the kitchen scrambling eggs. I come back from my shower and Lula and Chenae are digging into eggs, bacon and OJ. I pour myself a bowl of cereal and take a seat.

"Where are you headed today?" I ask Lula.

"Not sure yet. I like Grace's new board."

I like it too. Light grey on the walls, dark flooring and accent colors of teal, yellow, and purple. Lots of color but the main color is black. I still can't believe Grace talked her into it.

"I'm thinking Pier 1," Lula continues. "I wanna see what kind of accessories they have. Grace said we'd hit the designer places next week."

I smile and pass Lula my black American Express. "Don't go too crazy." Lula grins at me as I pick up the empty dishes and set them in the sink. She grabs her purse and sunglasses, kisses my cheek, and heads out for a day of shopping.

If Chenae's eyes could get bigger, they'd pop out. I wave for her to join me in the living room and plop a box of Kleenex in front of her. She'll need it. I haven't said a word and the waterworks are already starting.

"I'm not sure where to start with you, Baby Shug," I tell her quietly. "I made it clear when you first met her that I wouldn't tolerate anyone disrespecting her. I let her handle that first encounter because I knew she wanted to, and I expected that to be the end of that."

I sit back on the couch and watch her sniffle.

"As my precious baby sister, I _hoped_ you would like her. I hoped you'd spend time with her and get to know her. I've never denied you anything that was within my power to give you, and the one time I ask something of you, you embarrass and hurt me."

"Pierre, I—"

"She walked back into this apartment at 11 p.m. I was worried. My woman doesn't know Texas, anything could happen, and you pissed her off so much that she felt the need to burn rubber for hours."

"Just _rubber_? Or did she wear out the magnetic strip on your credit cards, too?" she asks snidely.

I slide my blank face into place and stare at her. Time to start breaking her down. This is no longer my precious baby sister. This is an enemy to my marriage and she will be eliminated.

"OK. I see where I've gone wrong. You assume that you would always be the number one woman in my life, at least behind Momma. I told you for years that was wrong, but now you **see** that you're wrong."

"No, I didn't expect to be the number one forever, Pierre, but I did expect you to bring home a woman worthy of being my sister! Someone worthy of being your wife!"

I have to rein in my temper. "Explain."

"She's a ho! A prostitute. Anybody and everybody's had her for $50. She's uneducated and she's living off you! I always expected you to bring home someone classy. Someone educated, with degrees and sophistication. Someone independent. Someone I could admire."

She's sniffling. Chenae cries about as pretty as Steph does. I'm amused and pissed.

"There's nothing special about her. I saw the papers of her and her 'friend.'" She finger quotes. "The friend is barely competent at her job. Hell, she's a public menace, and every time your future wife was in the papers with her, she looked like a train wreck. One paper showed her with red hair that doesn't occur in nature, Spandex that doesn't stretch _that_ much, and enough jewelry to put Mr. T to shame! How will you ever introduce her to people? How could she advance RangeMan? How is she an asset to your life? She can't enhance your life! You have to teach her basic stuff! She's a leech!"

I let Chenae cry while I laugh mentally. My little sister. Such a blind snob. Fuck. Bobby warned me. I owe him an apology.

"I didn't realize I'd raised such a snob." Chenae looks at me in shock. "How do you expect to be a social worker if you judge people on appearances before you meet them? If you judge them for the gossip before you know anything about them?" I sit back and get comfortable. "That 'friend' you were just insulting is currently the Managing Director for RangeMan." Chenae swallows. "She's also Ranger's woman."

She goes pale. Chenae met Ranger and, like everyone Ranger meets, Chenae was left slightly afraid of him. Only my momma had no fear of him. She spent the week fattening him up. He gained six pounds on that trip and Les rode his ass for weeks about it. I rode his ass for months, but I enjoyed watching him succumb to my mother's care and concern and butter-laden recipes.

Ranger visits once a year and he eats everything she puts in front of him. He likes her that much.

"She also has a 100% success rate on the East coast, 98.5% if you wanna be picky, which makes **her** the most successful bounty hunter on the east coast. Not even Ranger and I have that record. We stand at 98% as a team."

Chenae sits back and gets comfortable on the couch. Her eyes are wide and Salem's jumped in her lap. He purrs and she strokes him absentmindedly.

"That 'friend', Stephanie, has grown the company 5% in the past 4½ months. That's faster than we expected and it's sustainable. Currently she's doing management reviews within the company and doing an excellent job of plugging holes and shoring up branches and men. She's doing an excellent job and you judged her on her newspaper articles and gossip."

Chenae's jaw is clenched. She didn't expect to hear that, I'm sure.

"Public menace, huh? Well, that public menace nearly flunked out of college." Chenae's eyes are wide. "However, if you're smart, you remove the classes she flunked and look at the core classes she took for her major. She had a solid B+ average. Not spectacular, but she was good in management classes. She's proving that within my company now. She's spectacular at the shit I fail at. I'm trying to think of ways to keep her in the company because it's clear that she's gonna hit double digits by the end of the year."

"Fine! OK, I mighta been wrong on the friend if she's doing that great a job for you but still! She's educated. I'll bet she's sophisticated and she cleans up well. She mighta looked like a disaster in the newspapers but if she's doing that great a job, then she knows how to handle business."

"And Lula doesn't?"

Chenae is silent.

"Again, you're judging on appearances, Chenae. Lula survived a brutal attack that left her in the hospital for days, but she was the main witness and source that helped provide evidence to free an innocent man. That's what made me first notice her. She did it knowing the consequences and still was brave enough to give Stephanie the information she needed to prove the charges were false. She paid a high price for her bravery."

I sit back and stare at Chenae. Her mouth is set.

"Afterwards, she did just what she told ya'll. She got a job. She enrolled in school. She's independent. You know **nothing** about my woman. Lula doesn't give a damn about what people think about her clothes, hair, or accessories. She wears what she's comfortable in and fuck the rest of you. She's paying for school one and two classes at a time because that's what **she** can afford. She doesn't have a big brother like you do that's willing to foot her bills.

She stayed to help me decorate my apartment and because Momma encouraged her to live with me for a while. She's got her own. This is the first time I've been able to spoil my woman and I'm enjoying it. Usually, the most I can do is pay for our dates and even that's a fight sometimes. She's determined to prove she don't need a man. She don't want to be under any man's thumb."

I get up and grab some water for us both before continuing.

"Now you? You were bankrolled by me. Your car came from me. I paid for any expenses not covered by scholarship. I paid those expensive 'rush' fees and I give you a stipend so you can study and not have to worry about bills. You had a better undergraduate experience than all your friends because your big brother bankrolled it all. You studied abroad in Africa and partied in Jamaica and Hawaii. You asked and I gave as long as those grades stayed high and you excelled. Dean's List, honor societies, published research, that's what I expect of you and that's what you did.

Lula didn't have that but you got the nerve to judge her? Again, how do you expect to work in social work when the people you'll have to work with will be more like Lula and our family than your high-class sorority sisters and scholarship colleagues?"

I sit back. Chenae's jaw is tight.

"So, I guess I'm **not** looking at another Miss Lucille, huh? Because you wouldn't have time for a boy like me, would you? Even though I'm the one who needs your help, you'd ignore me. Gangbanger, thief, illiterate, I don't talk so I must be dumb. But Miss Lucille didn't fall for appearances. She looked at the boy, damn near man, and she helped him.

How about a woman like Momma, huh? A teenage mother with five kids once she hit her thirties and an alcoholic husband to boot? How you plan to help her? Or would you look at her and think she got what she deserved for having that many kids? Those bruises aren't from a beating. She fell down the stairs. Yup, she doesn't need help. But I'll bet you have time for the fundraisers. I'll bet you'll be pictured prominently in the fundraiser pictures or at the rally, but you won't give true time to the cause. Explain that, Chenae."

Chenae is swallowing hard. "That's not fair, Pierre. I got into social work to help people."

"But you have no compassion and no empathy. You don't have a heart. You judge based on things that don't matter. Appearances, clothes, cars, that's all stuff. Here today, gone tomorrow, replaceable. In the end, that shit doesn't matter but character does. Character isn't replaceable. Empathy isn't replaceable. You don't get to know people. You don't look at circumstances. You don't look at people's hearts. You have the nerve to call Lula a leech? **You** are a leech, Chenae."

Chenae bursts into tears. I stare at her coldly.

"You been sucking at my wallet for years, but as long as you were gettin' yours it was fine, huh?"

"No!"

"Really? Well, I guess we're about to find out. You cut off, Chenae."

She starts hyperventilating. I cross the living room and tuck her head between her knees.

"I will pay my fair share for your graduation party. You need to thank Lula for that and keep your party under $300 cuz I'm only pitchin in $100. I will not bankroll your life in Houston or your master's degree. I'm not buying you a graduation gift, which is a fucking shame because I was set to buy the fully loaded Explorer you wanted."

Chenae looks up in shock. The look on my face causes her to break out in fresh sobs.

"I'm not paying your credit card bills or your rent anymore. Starting today. When you walk out of this apartment, I will begin cutting your access to every one of my accounts. Let's see how **you** fare as an independent woman. You think you'll do as well as your future sister-in-law?"

Chenae is sobbing hard at this point, but I don't care.

"You had the nerve to insult my woman after I made it clear that it better never happen again. The shit you said the day you met her was enough. I was ready to cut you off right then, but Lula felt that was unfair to you. I told her how important you were to me and she wanted to get to know you. She has more heart than you because she set aside your nasty-ass comments and reached out to you. You insulted her in Momma's house and she **still** gave you a chance! Shit, Chenae! How many times did you think you were gonna insult her without consequence?

To add more insult to the injury, you ganged up with your little friends to beat her down. Did you think that if you let them beat her up, I wouldn't blame you? They're your friends. You brought them and Lula together so even if you didn't say a word, I hold you responsible. You told Lula's personal business to people who had no need to know."

"Pierre, this is my last year! School starts in a few weeks. Can't you—"

"Nope. Because you couldn't. You couldn't give my woman the respect she deserved, the respect she's earned. You couldn't give **me** the respect I've earned. So I'm giving you what you earned. You're so concerned about my wallet? So am I. I'm cutting off the drains to it and instead of being the last one to get cut off, you're the first."

I shake my head and snort. "What's so fucked up is this." She looks at me. "You so concerned about appearances. Well, I hope you got a game plan ready to explain to your friends why you won't be balling to Hawaii after graduation." She starts sobbing, looking truly pitiful. "Hope you ready to explain why you had to give up your apartment. Can you explain why you don't have gas money for your car?"

I shake my head. "Let's see how you like being judged on appearances. Hell, you won't even have it rough. You still have your full scholarship and one year left, but since you won't have the extra money to live it up like you used to, how many of your girlfriends gonna stick by your side? You're about to see who your true friends are, Chenae."

I stand and walk into the kitchen for some water. Mr. Fluffy and Josie are sitting in front of her staring. Shit like that is what I like about animals. They're looking at her like 'what's wrong with you?' I hand Chenae a glass of water and sit back on my couch. I pick up the laptop and start carrying out my decision. I cut off her access to all bank accounts and, while she cries and looks at me pitifully, I stop the automatic draft that pays her rent and disconnect the transfer link between my account and hers. By the time she's done sobbing and has wiped her face, I'm done. She's cut off from all my accounts. I make a note to meet with my lawyers and ensure I update my will.

"What now?"

I look over. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's gonna happen now?" She's looking at me as if to beg me to change my mind.

"I dunno, Chenae. I just finished cutting your access to all my accounts, so that's done." She's stunned. "You got gas money to get back to New Orleans?"

She shakes her head, so I reach for my wallet and pull out $60. "This is it. This is the last transfer you gettin' from big brother. Fill up your gas tank and go back to campus. Your first stop on Monday better be financial aid." I stand and hand her the cash. "Don't call here whining and begging either, Chenae. My decision is final. I'm giving you what you earned."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Chenae leaves after begging and pleading with me to change my mind. I ignored her and continued reading my newest book until she gave up. Once she leaves, I call Lula and let her know Chenae is gone, then call Momma.

"Baby, she on my other line cryin' like the world done ended."

I sigh. "She disrespected Lula, Momma."

"I know, and I made it clear I agreed with you. I told her I was ashamed and embarrassed by her too. Good woman like Lula with a good heart and she disrespected her in public. Shamed Lula in front of people Lula don't even know! I couldn't believe it. Had to get my Bible and start prayin' for her over the phone."

I chuckle and pour a glass of water. I'm in the kitchen, standing at the counter, when I hear the front door open. Moments later, my woman is hugging me from the back. I twist around in Lula's arms and kiss her forehead. One bag. _Sigh_. Even when I try to spoil her I fail.

"Well, I'm sure she'll start begging you for money soon."

"Humph. Damn shame I don't know where the ATM cards or checkbooks for those accounts are. I guess I won't be able to get to that money."

I laugh. "Where _do_ you keep it, Momma?"

"Safe deposit box, baby. If I ever need money that bad, I gotta go get it. Besides, I know yo' brother. If I had that stuff anywhere in this house, he'd find it and start draining those accounts. I told you I don't touch your money. It's sitting right there. Over a million dollars I'll never touch."

I grin. I love my Momma. Just like Lula, I can give to her and know that if she accepts it, it's because there was a need.

"Now Pierre, I got a serious question for you, baby. What is Chenae gonna do? Is she covered for school?"

"Yeah, Momma, she's covered. Her scholarship covers tuition, room, and board, so it means she'll have to move back on campus, if they have room, for her last year. She can eat in the school café and live in the dorms. My covering her off-campus apartment gave her more freedom, but that's done."

I'd never let Chenae go without. My decision simply gives her fewer options than before.

"OK. What if they don't have room?"

"Then I hope Wilma and Thelma are feeling generous."

Momma snorts. "She's up that creek then. Wilma's overdrawn again and she and David are arguing about it. Thelma and Barry sat down and started reworking their finances since you said you were cutting everyone off. The luxury vacation to Jamaica to celebrate their anniversary has been cancelled. They put themselves on a budget. I gotta say baby, this is probably the best thing to happen in the family for a while."

I'm thinking that Momma is right. I'm not even married yet and everyone is making the adjustments. Lula is nearly asleep leaning against me and I smile. I need to send Steph a thank you note. Lula hasn't worn Spandex in weeks and because I love these wrap dresses so much, she's wearing them all the time. I put the phone on mute, pull the belt to the dress and watch Lula's eyes flutter. A small smile curves her lips and I slip my fingers inside the dress and inside her panties. Minutes later she's ready for me. Momma is still chattering away about Antoine (I wonder if she really accepts that I don't give a damn about him) and I'm thinking about how to accomplish my new goal.

Lula makes it easy. She wraps one leg around my waist, fishes my wallet out of my back pocket and pulls the condoms. I'm unhooking the bra and she's getting the sergeant into his battle dress when Momma asks "So, have you thought about coming to church tomorrow?"

Lula and I both groan. Nothing to kill the mood like the idea of God watching us fornicate. The sergeant starts to droop at the idea and Lula grins and starts bucking him up. He's back at attention in no time.

"Yo' Momma's timing sucks," she whispers. I chuckle silently.

I take the phone off mute. "Momma, please don't die from the effort."

"Just sayin'. You getting married to the woman you love. I want this to be perfect for both of you. I like her. She the right woman for you and even if you hadn't brought her home, if I'da met her in the streets, I'd like her. She strong and smart enough to want to be sure of you before rushing in. I like that."

I love my momma but I gotta find some way to cut this off. I want to find my release inside my woman, especially since she's naked and barefoot in my kitchen. I'm no chauvinist, but something about that fantasy is making me hot.

"Thanks, Momma. Look, Lula just stepped through the door, so let me talk to her about Chenae and we'll call you back, aight?"

"OK. Love you and Lula, baby." _Click_.

Ten seconds later, Lula is holding my arms and moaning and I'm putting in work. I don't need a bed. I got her legs apart.


	23. The Housekeepers' War, Part VII

**The Housekeepers War, Part VII—NYC**

**Maria's POV**

I haven't been to New York since I was a newlywed, and I'm thrilled to be here. I can't wait to see what special thing NYC does for the housekeeper. The Boston men purchased an iPod for me and downloaded some of my favorite songs and albums onto it. Now all their questions about my favorite music and dances make sense! They also said they sent a message to Armando to ensure I had a hookup available in my prep area when I get home. It's such a sweet present and it made the train ride from Boston to NYC very enjoyable. They were sweet boys, when not pumping me for info. They behaved just like all the other men I've met so far.

It made me feel so guilty for deceiving them but Susan said that they'd earned it. Boston's job is to follow orders, maintain profitability, and lead the company. It's not to squeeze the housekeeper for information. Quite frankly, she can't wait for Mark to find out that he was duped.

"No, Maria, you should not feel guilty. When I go back, I'll immediately discourage him from thinking he can squeeze the housekeepers for information."

We all laugh. It's the 2 p.m. housekeepers call the day before I leave for NYC and I've been moaning about feeling guilty for the past 15 minutes.

"I know. I did it with the best intentions—"

"Exactly. You did it because supporting the CO, in this case, Stephanie, should be every RangeMan's number one concern. We should all be supporting and encouraging her in the role. If Mark fell for your lies, then he deserves his punishment."

Each lady murmurs her agreement.

"Amusing that you should feel that way about your XO, Susan," Rose says. I can hear her laughing.

"I mean it. I know I don't rant and rave very often, but I've been the one listening to that insanity for months. However, I will say that his opinion seemed to have started turning around before I left. If he said he was interested in genuinely helping Stephanie and hoping she'd call on him for advice, I'd go so far as to say he meant it."

"You think so?" Ella asks.

"Yes," Susan replies. "I know Mark comes across as an ass at times," we all giggle, "but the two things you have to know about him are these." We wait. "One, he reveres Ranger. He's loyal to his boss and loyal to his boss's orders."

"Doesn't sound as if he's been that loyal lately," Lucia sniffs.

"Which leads me to number two. Mark cares deeply for the company. He resigned his military commission to follow Ranger to this company. He was one of the first hires. Until recently, he was the man placed in charge when the Leadership did their missions or when they brought up new branches. He lives and breathes RangeMan."

We all contemplate that level of dedication and loyalty to the company. Admirable.

"So, although I'd like to dispute his opinion about Stephanie's fitness to be CO, on paper we must all admit she's a terrible choice. However, soldiers who look terrible on paper are sometimes outstanding in the field. She seems to be that soldier, but until she proved it he was going to be concerned about the company and her fitness to lead it."

We all agree quietly.

"As an employee of this company I must agree with him. I was hoping that she would prove everyone wrong and she has. I'm thrilled. The difference," she states forcefully, "is that I've kept my opinion to myself until now. I've waited for Stephanie to show that she knows her stuff and she has. And I never would have told the boys anything negative about her. That's where Mark made his mistakes and **that's** why I hope she gives him hell. He knew the Leadership Core all backed this move. He should have kept his mouth shut until he had more information, like I did."

I nod, although I know no one can see me. Susan is absolutely right. Mark should have kept his mouth shut.

"Did he bad mouth her while you were there, Maria?" Ella asks.

"No. On the contrary, he defended her." I hear the ladies gasp. "Shocked the men entirely. He told them that the CO was to be respected and obeyed. She's in charge. They follow orders."

"You think he meant it?" Rose asks.

"I think so."

We're quiet for a few minutes.

"The issue is the Bombshell Bounty Hunter stories," Susan says quietly. "Miami and Boston have been listening to the stories for the longest and the longer and more. . . "she searches for a word, "convoluted those stories seemed to get, the more respect she lost in Boston."

"Why?" Lucia asks, bewildered.

"Because the Boston men know female bounty hunters. They know women who are able to trace and apprehend and they do a good job without getting hurt and shot like our CO. The stories started off funny but I would say that they stopped being funny around 18 months ago. The men just started thinking she was pathetic. Mark didn't have to say much in Boston about the CO for her to start behind the eight-ball up here. Her own reputation did her in from the start here."

We're quiet. Even I must admit that, as much as I love Stephanie, that's the prevailing view in Miami. The assumption is that she's Ranger's 'piece of Jersey ass' and that when he moves home to Florida, he'll find a more appropriate woman, one as beautiful and brilliant as they believe he deserves.

One more interested in having his babies and keeping his house clean than bounty hunting.

"Well," Lucia says, "I think Stephanie is proving that she was an excellent choice to be the CO. The company is growing, the branches are getting stronger, and we're having the most fun we've had in months teaching a bunch of sexists how to behave."

We all laugh.

"You think we're done?" Ella asks.

"We're about to see," Lucia replies.

* * *

Javier picks me up at Penn Station. He's alone, but he's a sweetheart.

"Maria! Welcome to NYC. Did you have a nice ride down?"

"I did! I've never taken the train. It was very relaxing." He smiles and takes my bags. We walk outside and another RangeMan pulls up.

"Well, whatever procedures were in place everywhere else will probably be in place here in NYC, but do you have any special requirements that I need to know about? Anything I need to account for?"

"No. I'm very interested in riding the NYC subway. Lucia tells me it's not as scary as I've been told." We've reached the SUV and Javi opens the door so I can climb in. The other RangeMan grins, overhearing the end of my sentence.

"Sup, Maria! I'm Mack. Welcome to the NYC." I smile and Javier stashes my bag in the back then climbs in. "Yo, I've ridden the subway all my life. It's not scary at all."

Javi laughs. "I can give you a primer if you want. Most of the office can. Just stay off the buses." He grins. "I assume you have a life to live and getting on the buses is an all-day thing."

We laugh and I sit back and relax. Something else I've noted on my trip around the company is that the senior management at each branch protects and backs the housekeeper. There's no question about my authority in those offices. If I say I want or need something, I get it and the XO stands behind my request, not that it's actually necessary. The men jump to get what I need.

Hmm …I believe procedure for Miami's management will change also. They need to support me openly. If I request something, I don't want to have to beg to get it. I want Armando to make it a point that if I need something, it should be done. I should not have to ask twice.

Actually, I should not have to ask once.

* * *

NYC Leadership immediately asks me to join them in Javier's office. They have a quick 15 minute meeting each day at 3:45, right before each man has another pulse check or company call, just to get an idea of what the Core Team at each branch needs to know. It's quick but afterwards I'm bemused.

"Lucia attends this?" I ask Javier.

He nods. "The housekeeper is a part of the leadership team. You are essential. If you're noticing patterns among the men that I need to know about, now is the time to tell me."

Each man is nodding. "Lucia figured out why we weren't passing physical from Cinco de Mayo to the Puerto Rican Day Parade," Mack says. He's twirling a pen in his hands and tapping out a beat. "The Doc was ready to kill us but she said that 2/3 of this office was Latino. We was out partying!"

"Which I didn't understand because I'm not Mexican or Boricua," Javier says, chuckling. He and Mack high five and I scowl. I don't identify as Boricua, but I am half Puerto Rican. "But hell, a holiday is a holiday and all our families cook like crazy during that month. We were gaining weight like no one's business!"

Everyone laughs and starts naming them.

"Cinco de Mayo."

"Ascension."

"Mother's Day."

"Memorial Day."

"Armed Forces Day.

"Pentecost."

"Trinity Sunday."

"Corpus Christi Day."

"Puerto Rican Day Parade."

By the end we're all laughing. The guys are shaking their heads.

"The Doc just looked at us like we were crazy. Next day, we get a memo posted up big." Mack motions for me to follow him and we walk to the 5th floor. The memo is still there.

**From the Chief Medical Officer, Robert Brown**

**I have noted the number of religious and cultural holidays celebrated by the men in this office from May 1****st**** to approximately June 10****th****. However, I would like to add another to the list:**

**National Blood Pressure Month, celebrated in May**

**You're raising mine. That's dangerous for you. Celebrate all you wish but get the health and weight under control or I'll add a new holiday:**

'**Visit your NYC RangeMan in the Hospital' Month, celebrated from mid-June to mid-July**

I laugh. Bobby certainly made the point. Javier and Mack grin. "Gym usage doubles in May," Javier says, "and Lucia goes vegetarian that month to offset what we're eating at home. We never again failed medical."

I smile. The Miami boys are the same during that same time period. I do cut back on some of the heavy food during that time but never really thought about why. A few days later, during the staff meeting, I realize that I'm sitting at the head of the table near Javier. I drift off, thinking about that. I sat next to Adam's seat while I was in Atlanta. I sat next to Rodney in Boston. I sat next to Ram in Trenton. I poke Adam and whisper, "Am I supposed to be in this seat?" He nods. The meeting breaks up minutes later and I head back to the prep area. Adam and Jorge join me, looking confused.

"Why did you ask if you were supposed to be in that seat, Maria?" Jorge asks.

I shrug. "I just realized that at every location I visited, the housekeeper sits next to the liaison."

Adam takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his short blond hair. "Where do you sit in Miami, Maria?"

"End of the table."

Adam snorts. "I can't speak for anyone else, but in Atlanta, we respect the power of the housekeeper. She has more information on the men than anyone else." He looks directly at me, blue eyes blazing. "**You** are the person in the branch with the responsibility for the health and welfare of the men. That means that you'll be the first person to know if there's something going on among the men we need to know about. No other person impacts every RangeMan more than the housekeeper. You are the 'den mom', the person who knows and sees all. That's why you have an elevated position in Atlanta. It's a subtle acknowledgement of your power and authority." He walks over and hugs me. "You're 'Mom' and I'd never put my mom at the end of the table."

I smile and wipe my eyes with the handkerchief Jorge provides.

Adam's right.

I'm Mom. The Miami boys are my boys but they haven't been treating me like Mom. They've been treating me like a slave. No more.

I'm important and they're going to treat me like I am.

* * *

"Ladies, I have a question." It's 2p.m., a slow time, and I decide to see if there have been any changes at home. "What has Miami management been like since I left?"

It's quiet on the line.

"Well, I was picked up at the airport by Armando," Susan says slowly. "He made it clear that he supports the 'Housekeepers' War', as he termed it, and he backed it up. Once I explained grocery procedures, he got on the phone with Mark and got a copy of the Boston ones. He informed me about the possible bugs in the apartment. He did everything he could to support me without coming between me and the men. I think he's enjoying watching the humbling of his men."

"I agree," Rose adds. "Hell, it was clear he was enjoying it. He was very respectful of me while I was there, him and Shane and Thomas. He's trying his best not to come between us and the men, to allow us to dish out the punishment, but it's clear he really wants to break his men."

I sit back and consider. This is good.

"Maria, Mando is a cousin of mine, distant but still," Lucia says, "he's family. He told me, bluntly, that the 'Housekeepers' War' has had an impact on him too. He never really thought about the fact that he had a grieving widow in his office because you always seemed so strong, so capable. I've ripped him a new one for that." We all giggle.

"I asked him how long he expects Mariela to grieve for him after he dies. _Querida_, he turned white because I reminded him that you took the position only a year after Armand died. He hadn't made the connection. You never cried in public so he didn't realize how bad it was. Turns out, his parents didn't get along well and when his father died, his mother barely grieved. He didn't see it in you so he didn't realize the extent of your grief."

We're all quiet. I'm glad Lucia explained. If she had not, I might have been madder at Armando, but I see. I refused to cry in front of the men so he assumed I wasn't heartbroken, like his Mami wasn't heartbroken when her husband died.

"I'm glad you explained that, Lucia," Ella says quietly. "I've been angry at Armando for months, wondering how he didn't realize he had a grieving widow in his office. It still doesn't excuse him but it does give me a new piece of the puzzle."

I'm nodding, even though I know no one can see me.

Susan picks up. "The problem in that office is Antonio."

"Oh my God, yes," I exclaim. "He's an absolutely wretched human being. Rude, condescending, and arrogant. Now that I've been away for a while, I can see what I thought was concerned behavior for what it is and it makes me furious."

"He's an absolutely sexist nightmare and he's the ringleader. He has to go down," Ella says.

We all sit in silence, wondering how to accomplish it.

Rose sighs. "The problem is firings are an XO function and we have an XO who cannot or will not fire family. Admirable, except that this family member has to go." We all murmur agreement. "I think, ladies, that we are praying for a miracle on this one. If Armando won't fire him, either Stephanie will have to or we'll need to get someone in there who can."

"Ranger gave Armando leave to fire him at any time," Lucia says.

"Good," Ella replies. "There's a standing order in place. We just need to get someone to execute it."

* * *

The NYC men behave just like all the rest of the men across the company with a twist: They want cooking lessons.

"We're on a hiring binge at this location," Jorge says. He is scheduled to leave in a few days for the Jersey shore, for a leadership retreat with Stephanie. He looked really upset that he would miss out when I agreed to hold cooking lessons. "The men here, myself included, are having to adapt to the RangeMan lifestyle." He grins. "It's not bad. Meals provided, mandatory self-defense and weapons training, and so much exercise I've dropped from a 38 waist to a 34."

I laugh. He looks thrilled by that.

"I never thought of myself as fat but wow! The ladies are checking me again." I giggle so hard the tears start running down my cheeks. "I've never had a six-pack, but my four-pack is on point right now. Javi has a six-pack and I'm determined to get there. It's another benefit of working here. I'm dropping inches where I don't need them and putting them on where it counts." He grins big.

I look up, shocked, and he blushes. "No, no, I mean biceps! Chest! Thighs! Oh God, Maria, I wasn't trying to make an inappropriate joke."

We both look at each other and burst into laughter. We lean against each other and laugh till we cry. Javier walks in, looking confused.

"OK, what's so funny? The men hear you two across the building."

Jorge retells the 'joke' and Javi bites his lip to keep from laughing. "Nice. Harass the housekeeper, Jorge." He grins. "He's getting full of himself. We've been friends since childhood and for the first time since high school, he can 'borrow' stuff from my closet," Javi says, using finger quotes.

"Hey! I return it."

"Yeah, and I'm still waiting on the return of my Karl Kani jeans."

"Dude, I can't believe you haven't forgotten about that."

"I never will either. I loved those jeans. Those were hot in the streets."

They continue teasing each other and I'm just laughing at them. Finally, they wind down and turn to me. "So, do you have everything you need for these cooking lessons, Maria?" Javier asks.

"Yes. I've created some simple little booklets," I hand one to each of them, "that should help the men recreate these dishes at home. I'll show them how to shop for healthy veggies and meat, how to prep the kitchen, and how to set up their meals."

The men nod. "This is all great stuff and we really appreciate you allowing us to tape you. It will be a great resource for our men to refer to in future."

"I, for one, really do wish I could be here for it," Jorge says mournfully. "The hardest part for me is shopping for healthy food. This 'Ideal Pantry" list you included is great." He smiles, mischievously. "I suppose this means I have to toss all the Pringles and Mountain Dew."

"The sooner the better. Then you can put on more inches where you want them."

The men look at me and I close my eyes and bite my lip while they break down in laughter.

* * *

Saturday morning at 8 finds my prep area absolutely full to bursting with new RangeMen. I hand each of them the booklet and take them to Lucia's pantry area, where I show them ideal foods to help them bulk up, feel full, and lose weight. Adam and Javier are standing there, smiling.

"Don't overdose on some of this stuff," I warn. "You want to do everything in moderation. The healthy diet combined with all the exercise should help you drop the pounds. From there, it's just a matter of sculpting the parts of your body you want to get the most attention." The men nod, taking notes.

"I've asked Hal, the XO of Trenton, to have Cal come in and work with you men," Javier announces. Adam looks impressed. "Cal is a former professional body builder and he knows how to sculpt a winning workout routine." Javier passes around a few photos that are clearly from Cal's professional days. That's the only reason I can see for any man to be in a Speedo like that.

"He never used drugs to do it either, despises them, so what you see is pure effort, diet, and exercise. He won't push you to that if you aren't interested, but Hal says that Cal is the man everyone in Trenton goes to when they need a new routine." He grins. "Cal is the man that helped Sarah, the CO's personal trainer, put together her fitness routine."

Bingo! Each man is writing Cal's name down and making notes.

"That flaming skull mean anything?" one RangeMan asks, looking concerned.

Javier grins. "Yeah." The men wait. "Don't fuck with me." The men nod. That's obvious.

I continue my tour of the kitchen/prep area then start on a few simple meals. The best part of doing this is the men get to eat the results, so they're happily taking notes and discussing everything. The few items that require baking time are popped in the oven. At the end of the demonstration, the men take point cleaning the kitchen under my direction.

We sit and I go over some basics of nutrition. I tease them about junk food in their cabinets and remind them that having a vice (or two) is OK, but not a lot and not often. Adam helps here.

"In Atlanta, the men have one cheat day a month. It's a day where we eat whatever the heck we want, no questions, no comments." Adam smiles. "I mean, it's Atlanta, home of soul food, pecan pie, and sweet tea. If we never got a chance to eat the cuisine around us, we might choke." Everyone laughs. "Knowing that their cheat day is coming makes the diet easier for each man. My last cheat day? Pancakes, bacon and eggs for breakfast. Fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, seasoned green beans, and pecan pie for lunch. A rib eye, medium-rare, with a baked potato, creamed spinach, and peach cobbler for dessert. Washed down with Gatorade all day and a nice, full bodied Cabernet for dinner."

The men are drooling.

"Exercise the next three days? One hour on the treadmill, 150 crunches, 100 pushups, 30 minutes on the rowing machine. So I paid for it with two hours in the gym." Adam shakes his head and the men laugh. He made the point. He had to work it off even as he enjoyed it.

The day proceeds like that. The RangeMen help the new recruits understand how to incorporate this new diet and exercise regime into their lifestyles. At the end of the presentation, as I'm pulling the baked items from the oven, Javier and Adam strip to their boxers and show the men the kind of bodies they could expect to gain from living this way.

I admire the tight bodies. The men admire the muscle definition. Javier's chest and six-pack is impressive and Adam has rock hard thighs and biceps. More importantly, each man is defined and lean, not overly bulky or muscular.

I miss my husband. He had a tight butt.

Javier and Adam redress and join the men in devouring the baked goods. At the end of the presentation, the men all hug and thank me. Knox, a new recruit, stays to speak to me.

"Maria, I can't thank you enough for agreeing to hold that presentation for us."

"It was my pleasure."

He smiles. "No, you really don't understand. When I first heard about the diet and exercise, I thought about quitting. It seemed insane and I didn't see how it was going to be possible. But now, after seeing you put together meals with stuff I know I already have in my cabinets, I'm feeling good about doing this." He grins. "Plus, did you see the XO's six pack?" He whistles. "Man, now I can see why women give him double takes on the streets." I laugh. "He doesn't even notice, but he and Mack get a lot of interest. I can't wait to see what kind of interest I'll get once I tone up."

"Well, the men did tell you about RangeMan brotherhood, right?" He nods. "That's a benefit of working here. You'll meet Lucia soon, but the housekeepers are considered the 'den moms'. If you need help with the diet, talk to Lucia. Call me. Each RangeMan housekeeper is a certified nutritionist or dietician. We can help you get on track when you slip."

He hugs me and leaves. I smile.

It's moments like that when I really love my job.

* * *

**Javier's POV**

I'm stuck. Jorge is at the shore and apparently it's going well. I knew it would. He just needed to get over his nervousness.

My new issue is Maria.

The men love her. They think she's great. She's teasing and laughing with them, showing them how to cook, working out meal plans and diets with them. She's doing such a great job I'm nervous about Lucia's return.

They love Lucia but this is insane. The new men pretty much live in the prep room with Maria when off duty. I haven't had to worry about grocery procedures or health and weight with her around. The men like doing the grocery run with her. They like serving as her taste testers. Apparently she's testing new recipes in advance of returning to Miami. She's baking for my men. They're happy as hell.

RangeMan recruitment is up 26%. I'm getting the best picks because the men have spread the word about the company. Former gang bangers, Wall Street types, a few former cops (those have been segregated until I decide how trustworthy they are. Mack's helping me on that one), and a lot of military men are sending in their resumes. The men who make the initial cut are thriving in the company. I retain 9 out of 10 new hires.

My branch is growing so fast I'm running out of room!

"Homie, I love Lucia, but any chance we can keep Maria too?" Mack whispers. I shake my head and call Mando. I can feel Mando rubbing his temples.

"Man, don't keep my housekeeper. I miss Maria." He laughs. "So, the new Maria is a force, huh?"

"You kidding me? My men adore her. How are they taking Lucia?"

Mando starts laughing hard. I'm wondering what's up. "Lucia put her foot in Tony's back at Costco."

My eyes widen. "You're shitting me!" I start laughing and still my foot. Gotta work on that.

"Yeah. Oh, the men are watching Lucia like a hawk. Rose threatened to poison them so they have a rotation going to ensure Lucia doesn't poison them. Lucia caught on and now the men aren't allowed in her kitchen unless they're doing KP duty."

I shake my head. Damn. Miami is full of sexist idiots. "And?"

"No one peels potatoes faster than Juan." Mando sounds amused saying it. "Nacho is a pro at juicing citrus and Mario's knife skills are being shown off every time he has to debone chickens. Best one?"

"Yeah?"

"Lucia bought 100 pounds of seafood at the docks. The men organized to separate it into 10 pound bags, and I approved buying a vacuum sealer. Lucia's been on a ball buying fresh fish. Every man has been stuffing shrimp, scallops, conch, grouper, you name it, Lucia bought it and they've been stuffing it into the vacuum bags. Lucia turned around and grilled seafood for them, and they're learning that if they cooperate with the housekeeper, they get cooperation and love back."

"Your men prepared to make changes?"

"I think so. Mario and Deuce have taken over the office. They made it clear that if you can't be respectful of the housekeeper, stay away from her, and they meant it. Mario's been taking men to the mats for disrespecting Lucia."

"Isn't that your job?" I frown.

"Yeah, the first few times I issued mat time, Lucia came to me and said I needed to hand that off to Mario. She wanted the men to regulate themselves. They know I'll thrash them for stupid shit, but Mario and Deuce taking them to the mats for even suggesting that Lucia should do their laundry? The men are shocked and learning to live by the housekeeper's rules."

"Wow…."

"Yeah. This branch is going insane. Self-regulation is a beautiful thing." He laughs and I grin. Mando sounds relieved. I'm happy for him. Bro has been living in hell for a long time.

"You think you can get Maria back?"

"I don't know," he says quietly. "At the moment, Lester says she's still coming out to San Antonio for a month. He and Ella want her to experience what it would be like to take over that branch and be the first housekeeper there." He snorts. "What they _really_ mean is that they want to make sure Maria understands that she shouldn't stand for Miami's shit. If she goes to San Antonio and works there, it will be filled with old and new RangeMen, some who know her and some who don't. She'll get to dictate her needs to the men and they'll reciprocate because they won't know any different."

_Tap tap tap-tap tap tap tap-tap_. I still the pen. "In other words, if she feels comfortable giving orders to the San Antonio men then she'll be able to go home and give orders to the Miami men, right?"

"Exactly."

* * *

Zero arrived yesterday to establish a baseline with the men. Maria is also there, teasing the men and taking the notes. Zero looked thrilled to see her.

"Maria!"

"Zero!" They hug. I throw deuces to Zero and leave.

All day I hear about the physicals. Most of the men are doing well, losing weight, bulking up, getting stronger. Zero places a few of the men on probation, telling them to get their weight down and the running up. Those men are a dejected bunch, mostly Wall Street bankers. I hide a smirk; Zero has no love for their excuses.

"Standards are standards," he says coolly. "Every man in the military has to meet them. We don't accept excuses."

"We aren't military," James 'Tater' Tate says snidely. I haven't exactly enjoyed his attitude and I'd prefer to bounce him. "My specialty is finance. I hire people as bodyguards." I think I will, so I'm surprised to hear Maria chime in, cold as ice.

"I wasn't military either, but I still had to meet military standards. I'm still checked for range time, weight lifting, and driving skills like every other man here and my range scores and weightlifting percentages are better than yours."

Mack and I look at each other and look at the door. Damn! Go Maria!

I walk through the door to find Tater looking at Maria, shamefaced. Zero looks ready to break the needle in him.

"My apologies, Maria," he says quietly. "That was rude."

She gives him a small smile. "Rough adjustment?" Tater nods. "This isn't like Wall Street, dear, where you can mess up and someone will pay to make it all go away. This company is different. You have skills we can use but at the end of the day, we can hire someone else for your position." I lean against a wall and hide my smile. Zero looks at Maria with hidden amusement. Maria turns to Zero. "Done with him?" Zero nods. "Good." She turns to Tater. "Go to my prep area and wait. I'll be with you in a moment."

He leaves and she turns to Zero and me. "All the former Wall Street men having a problem?" Zero and I check the list.

"Yes," I reply. "You have an idea?"

"I think so," she replies. "They're late-nighters. I've seen them raiding the pantry when a report is due. They're accustomed to snacking mindlessly while pushing out reports and doing Wall Street things." She shrugs. "They don't realize how many calories they're consuming because they don't consider that 'food'." She grins. "Time for diet diaries."

She leaves and Zero and I look at each other.

"I hate diet diaries," Zero mumbles.

"So do I," I reply.

Miami has no clue. This Maria is not the same woman. **No one** is ready for her.


	24. Will You Give ME A Chance?

**Chapter 54.9: Will you give me a chance?**

**Lula's POV**

I'm headed back to Carencro for another visit. Lester's 'bout to head to the Jersey Shore, something Steph's doing with the company men. We talked yesterday and she seemed distracted so I decided to catch up with her later.

I know Batman is out the country so I'm wondering what's up. She's usually only that distracted when he's around.

I really enjoy my time with Mrs. Carol Jean and it's hard not to want to spend time with her. She's fun and feisty and she likes to tell me stories about Tank's childhood. It's obvious that Tank's her favorite and he loves his momma. We finally decided that maybe we should think about buying a house in San Antonio, so she joined us and she and I went house hunting every day.

Maybe I spent too many years being poor, but me and Tank got different ideas about houses. I think 3 bedrooms is more than enough. He thinks 3 bedrooms is a good start. I think 1500 square feet is massive. We looked at a house where the master suite alone was 1500 square feet. I reminded him of his house on Howard Street, in Trenton, and he looked at me, amused, and told me that he pretty much used the place as closet space. I said that was a lie. Closet space means you gotta have clothes to go in it. The all black uniform doesn't count. He and his momma thought that was hilarious.

After a week of house hunting, I'm tired and I don't care anymore. Tank and I don't see eye to eye on this. We return to the apartment and Mrs. Carol Jean is, again, the mediator.

"Alright, let's talk about this. Lula, what you want in a house? Tell me what you want to feel when you step in."

I think about this seriously and just start speaking. "I want it to be intimate, cozy, just enough for us. I don't want something Imma have to break my back to clean. I don't want a thousand rooms. I don't need a lot." I look at Tank. "Honestly, the RangeMan apartment is enough for me."

Tank nods. "I like space. I want to be able to have the family over for stuff and have enough room. I want to be able to have the guys over and have enough room. We usually do that kinda stuff at Bobby's place in Atlanta, but I wanna be able to host a getaway for top management."

I nod. OK, I see his point, but Mrs. Carol Jean breaks in here.

"I see yo' point, Pierre, but baby, I want you to consider this." He leans forward. "When we do family things, they end up at **my** house." We laugh cuz she's right. "Everyone comes home to Momma's. So you need to think about you and Lula." She smiles sadly. "No babies, right?"

I nod. I got checked out by a doctor here in Texas. He confirmed my chances of giving birth were somewhere in the miraculous range. Not out of the realm of possibility but if I want a baby of my own, I'm looking at getting a surrogate. I walked out, dejected, but Tank reminded me that he wasn't marrying me for babies. He'll still be happy as long as he has me.

Gotta love a man like that.

"So, you really look at having space for company retreats, which is good. Separate that from you and Lula and what do you need?"

He sits back and thinks and finally he says, "RangeMan apartment is fine for me."

Mrs. Carol Jean and I smile. "So buy you some land and build you something that works for that," she says. "Or buy you a house that's big enough for that but remember that it's for company stuff. Y'all ain't really livin' there."

I swear, I love my future mother-in-law.

* * *

I'm scouting Lafayette County this week. Tank and I decided to have the wedding here, so he and Bobby are joining us Friday night or Saturday morning after they square the branch away. They nervous. It's the first time they've left the men in charge with none of the partners there. The men are nervous too but the veterans are taking it in stride. They know how to run a branch and they're determined to prove it.

It's Tuesday and Mrs. Carol Jean is headed to the farmer's market to pick fresh veggies. She ain't that fond of grocery stores cuz she says they sell dead food ("Nothing's ever fresh, baby. Buy local and buy fresh.") and there might be some truth in that. I eat whatever the hell she puts in front of me, not just because I'm hungry or she's an outstanding cook but because it just _tastes_ better.

I'm losing weight, too. I'm eating all the damn time and losing weight.

I slip into my maxi dress and I'm headed to the kitchen when the doorbell rings. I go to answer it and it's Antoine.

Antoine is Tank's opposite in every way. Short (well, 5'10") where Tank is tall (6'6"). Thin where Tank is thick and muscular. He has long dreads and honey brown eyes, unlike Tank who is bald with black eyes. And he smells of weed. No, he reeks of weed.

Antoine is Bob Marley without the good vibes.

"So Sista, when was you gon' invite me out to dinner?" he asks, grinning, stepping into the house. I shut the door behind him and he follows me to the kitchen.

"Why should I?"

He backs up and laughs. "Oh, so I see the sistas got to you too. Let me guess. Antoine ain't bout shit. Antoine will sell yo' ass out. Antoine is useless."

I nod. "Yeah, you got that about right." I pour two glasses of lemonade and look around at him, handing him one.

He drops all smiles. "And you think that shit is fair? You judging me on someone else's say so. You don't wanna be judged without a fair shake."

I gotta give him that one. "I mighta given you a chance if I hadn't heard about how you sold Tank down the river when he was a kid." I move to the living room and again, he follows me.

He nods. "So, not only are you holding my sisters' opinions against me, you holding some shit I did at 17 against me. I see." He sits and motions for me to sit. I'm curious about what he's gon' say, so I sit.

"The shit I did, I see now it was wrong. I see it in my boys and I see where I fucked Pierre over. I'm trying to make amends but he don't wanna hear that shit. Pierre holds grudges and once he has one he like a dog with a bone." He snorts. "He's a fucking pitbull with a bone." He looks at me. "My sisters say anything else about how I treat family?"

I think. Nah, they just said not to trust his ass. I shake my head.

"Course not. They ain't got concrete examples of some actual shit I done to show I ain't bout shit, but since Pierre has decided I'm not to be trusted, they follow his ass. So you my only hope. I'm tired of being outside the family. I'm asking you to do for me what you want us to do for you. Gimme a chance. Dinner?"

I'm thinking about it. Ain't nothing he said sound false, but I wish I had Steph's instincts right now. I wanna give him a chance for some reason.

I hope I don't regret this shit.

"Alright. Where?"

"Shit, this is Carencro, girl." He grins and that's all Tank. I smile. "I can have something brought to the music studio." He grins slyly and I shake my head.

"You ain't bout shit."

He laughs. "I knew it! Damn! So you heard about that, huh?"

"Nah. I was just told that if I met with you on my own the story would go from a quick hello at Starbucks to me doing you and yo' buddies at the music studio."

He shakes his head, smiling. "That's real fucked up. So, lemme see. That woulda been Thelma." He looks at me, examines my face, and nods. "I thought so. Fucking teachers hear all the gossip first." He sits back. "First of all, Carencro ain't got a Starbucks. Gotta go to Lafayette for that. Second, I ain't have nothing to do with that. Now, did I tell the story? Yeah, to clear my name, but believe me, she wasn't innocent when she showed up and, if she was, she damn sure wasn't when she left. Kid ain't mine, though. I didn't touch her."

My eyes are wide. Holy shit! He grins. "Truth of the matter?" I nod. "She wanna make it big but she didn't have money for studio time. She paid in kind." I nod slowly. "Rule number one in the industry: Make yo' contracts air tight. She didn't and she learned a valuable lesson."

"That's shitty."

He snorts. "That's life."

* * *

We agree to meet at Paul's, a Carencro institution, for lunch. It's just me and him and we get seated at a booth. It's a nice joint, down home, and they got a good menu. Ms. Carol Jean got me spoiled with her cooking.

"What's good here?"

"Gumbo's pretty good. Anything fried is good." He looks up. "Nothing is better than Momma's. Lower your expectations now."

I grin. The waitress takes our orders (two orders of gumbo, one fried seafood platter and two large sweet teas) and leaves us to it.

"Alright, you got me here. So, tell me about yourself."

I'm surprised when he starts talking about his boys. It's clear he loves 'em, although he admits he's not a good Daddy. He tries, though. He tries real hard and his boys love him. He fiddles with his thumbs before finally saying, "I remember our Dad. Pierre hates him, but I remember the times when he wasn't drunk. He didn't turn into a drunk until Pierre was born and he wasn't an alcoholic till Wilma was born." He snorts. "Once Wilma was born, it was over. He just started beating the shit outta us. But I remember when he used to take me everywhere with him. Introduced me to all his friends. I was his little man." He has a wry grin. "He hated Pierre." He takes a sip of tea and sighs heavily.

"Rumor had it that Momma fucked around with a man named Marquise Fulmer. He lived a couple houses down and he was Daddy's best friend. I called him Mr. Key." He grins and leans toward me. "I wanted you to meet me here because I wanna show you someone." He motions his head toward the kitchen and nods. "The man at the grill's name is Marquise Fulmer, Jr. He'll come out in about ten minutes. Take a look at him and tell me what you think."

Our food arrives and we chow down. Ten minutes later, Marquise Fulmer, Jr. comes out.

He's Tank's fucking twin. Same height, same build, same looks. I'm so stunned the shrimp in my hand stops halfway to my mouth.

I look over at Antoine and he nods. "Yeah. You see why no one believed Momma? Now, I'm not saying my Momma fooled around. I prefer not to think it. But look at me and look at Chenae. Then look at Marquise and Pierre. Wilma and Thelma is a tossup." He takes a sip of tea and nods. "I loved my Momma. I still love my Momma. But Daddy treated me like shit after Pierre was born and once Wilma and Thelma arrived, it was all over. Chenae ain't got no bad memories because when she came out, it was clear she was Daddy's. Now, Pierre and them don't like to remember it, but Daddy loved Chenae. Chenae ain't known nothing but love her whole life. He actually stopped drinking so much once she was born, but the damage was done."

I nod. Damn. Nothing is ever simple.

"Yo, Key!" Antoine stands and Marquise comes over to the table. They man hug and he turns to look at me. "Key, this is my future sister-in-law, Lula. Lula, Marquise Fulmer."

Marquise smiles and I'm looking at Tank. I have no fucking idea what to think, but I smile and reach a hand out to shake. He kisses my hand. "Lula, pleasure to meet you." He grins and I'm struck dumb. Tank's voice. "Never thought anyone would get Pierre close to a preacher. You must be special." He nods at Antoine and heads back to the kitchen.

Antoine sits back down and we finish our meal. Antoine orders pecan pie and I sit back and pat my stomach. I was surprised to learn I lost five pounds last week. Then again, this part of the country would make Hell look like a ski resort. I'm just sweating it away.

"Here's what you need to know 'bout me, Lula." I look at Antoine and he's serious. "I'm loyal to family, even though they don't believe it. I don't lie either. The truth is usually more damaging anyway." I sip my tea and look at his face. He's serious. "I'm not here to hit you up for money, but you need to watch out for my aunts. They will." I'm surprised he said that.

"I know Tamika hates me but I love my sons. I do what I can for them. Tank's money?" He snorts. "I own the music studio." My mouth drops and he nods. "I hustled like hell to buy it. I been putting the same amount of money Tank gives Tamika for child support in a bank account." He hands over a checkbook and I'm amazed. "Give that to him. Momma is a signer on the account. He'll be able to verify how long I been putting that money aside."

I tuck the checkbook in my purse.

"I'm tired of being thought of as shit for a mistake I made at 17. I want in." He looks at me closely. "Lula, I want my little brother to stop hating me. Because of him, my entire family thinks I'm shit. Tank pays my child support because Tamika thinks he's a better bet than me, but she ignores the fact that I've never missed a weekend visit with them and I buy the Christmas presents, birthday presents and all they back to school stuff. I smoke weed and somehow that's equivalent to me being a crackhead 'cuz my brother is Mr. Ultra Clean Living. I don't have a degree like the rest of 'em and I don't appear to bust my ass at a 9 to 5, so I'm lazy and I'm a leech.

Well, all that is bullshit. I hustled. I made good too but no one gives a fuck about it so I stopped fighting against the assumptions. I let 'em think what they want cuz they gon' do it anyway. I got no one except my boys in this world. You 'bout it. You get him to change his mind and get to know me as a man and the rest of the family will follow his lead."

I'm angry now. "This shit makes no sense. Why now? Why me?"

He sits back. "What are my other options, Lula?" I grind my teeth and think fast. "My momma think that whatever Pierre say is gold and I'll admit, Pierre made damn good. He's usually right. But like I said, once he got a grudge, he holds on to it. You here and I'm thinking that maybe, for the first time, somebody might look at me neutral and give me a shot. Hell, you got Pierre to cut Chenae off and that was a fucking miracle. I figured she'd be swinging from his wallet till the day she got married."

I'm thinking about whether or not to do this and I finally have a test for him.

"Alright. You own the music studio?" He nods. "The girl who paid in kind. How did that go down?"

He nods, smiling. "You sharp, Miss Thang." I give him a small smile. "Rule one in my studio: I'm not getting between artists. Bad for business and I'm a businessman. You wanna to negotiate for someone's slot? You negotiate with them, not me. I posted that as a rule so no one could say they don't know. That's how she ended up flat on her back. She negotiated with the man who had that time slot and he and his buddies got their money's worth from her. That's why I know I ain't the daddy." He grins. "Ain't nobody dropping my ass on Maury."

I lean back and laugh. Still fucked up but he right. If that's the truth, it was way more damaging than a lie.

* * *

I head back to Mrs. Carol Jean's, head swimming. It's hard as hell to un-know something once you know it, if that makes any sense. I walk in and take a quick shower. It's Wednesday and she's gonna head to church at 5:45p.m. I decide to join her and hope she don't get too excited.

By 5:30, I'm in the living room, ready. Mrs. Carol Jean walks out, expecting to tell me she'll be back, and stops dead. I got no idea what to wear for a Wednesday night service, so I'm hoping this wrap dress is appropriate.

"Tallulah, you comin?" She looks hopeful and happy and I nod. She grins big. "Alright then!" She scans me for a moment, then nods. "Girl, you love yo' heels, huh?"

"Can't leave home without 'em," I reply, laughing. We head out and, while she locks up the house, I start the Escalade. She hops in and we set off.

"Now, not that I'm not thrilled, but what brought this on?" she asks.

I shrug. "You tryin' and I ain't been in years. Besides, we still haven't decided on a place for the wedding. We said no church but you still pushin' for yo' preacher. Might as well go hear him."

Mrs. Carol Jean grins and directs me through town. "Wonderful, baby. Wonderful. So, you had a good day today?"

I nod but don't say anything. I'm not sure how to handle everything I learned and I still ain't figured out how to tell Tank I met with his brother. I figure Imma need to put the sergeant in a coma before I tell him that.

We arrive at the church and it's my childhood all over again. I was hoping that Mrs. Carol Jean was at least a Baptist but no, she's Pentecostal. Lord help me. I wonder who's gonna end up speaking in tongues before the night is over.

We walk in and all chatter gets quiet. Everyone is looking at me and I'm following Mrs. Carol Jean to her pew. She's in the second pew, next to the aisle, on the left. Now, I remember that the First Lady usually has a prominent place and the senior leaders of the church do too, so I'm wondering if this is a power seat too.

Minutes later, I find out that it is. Mrs. Carol Jean is Deaconess LaPierre and everyone comes to her to say hello. She graciously and enthusiastically introduces me to everyone as "Lula Jackson, Pierre's fiancée." That causes a lot of raised eyebrows and smiles. Service starts promptly at 6 p.m. and the church is rocking. The in-house band is good, they take a million offerings ("I heard about the building fund," I whisper slyly. Mrs. Carol Jean laughs. "Every black church in America is ready to kill Steve Harvey for that joke."), and they have the normal twenty prayers.

The choir is outstanding and I'm shocked to see Thelma waving at me. She's a soloist and her voice isn't a soprano, it's deeper, but she's good. I'm moved to tears by the singing and Mrs. Carol Jean pats my arms and smiles.

Then we get to the part of church that usually puts me to sleep. The preacher.

Mrs. Carol Jean's preacher is about what I expect. Late 60s or early 70s, graying and wearing glasses, he's solidly built and has gorgeous dark chocolate skin. He looks out over the congregation and smiles directly at me, or Mrs. Carol Jean, and I'm confused. I check the program.

The Reverend Marquise Fulmer.

Seriously?! I've had enough of mysteries for one damn day. This man don't look nothing like the man I saw at Paul's. He's not big enough.

The preacher is damn good. He preached on the virtues of telling the truth and the evils of bearing false witness. I'm more confused than ever because it's like he's speaking directly to me. I've been lied to or told the truth today, or told multiple versions of the truth and I don't know which end is up anymore. Finally, service ends and we all move forward to shake his hand.

"Reverend, this is Ms. Lula Jackson. She's engaged to Pierre," Mrs. Carol Jean says, beaming.

Reverend Fulmer beams. "Well, you must be a blessing to both Pierre and Carol Jean. Congratulations, dear." He hugs me and I'm struck, again, by this man. He sounds nothing like Tank or Key. He sounds like Antoine and but has Tank's dark eyes.

"Thank you," I reply. "You preached a powerful sermon today. Imma have to think on your message." I mean that.

"Thank you, sister, thank you. Now, if you don't already have someone to marry you and Pierre, I'll be happy to officiate." He smiles. "Pierre was one of my favorite neighborhood boys. Him and Antoine." He turns to Mrs. Carol Jean. "How is Antoine?"

"Fine. He's fine," she replies. I nod at the reverend and move toward the choir, where I greet Thelma.

"Girl, you got a voice on you!"

She laughs and catches me in a hug. "Thanks, girl. Here, let me introduce you to my family." We walk over and she introduces me to her husband Barry and their son and daughter, Barry Jr. and Lisa. They're cute kids, but shy, and they seem happy to meet me, their future aunt. Barry simply stares at me.

"Nice to meet you, Lula," is all he says before directing the kids out of the church. I turn back to Thelma and she's looking at me, curious.

"I'm not sure what's up, but rumor says you met with Antoine for lunch." I blink, shocked. She frowns then nods. "I warned you. Call Pierre before the rumors reach him."

"Didn't nothing happen. We were in public the entire time. What's the rumor?"

"Right now? That y'all met for lunch and had a good time."

I shrug. "That's true."

Thelma raises an eyebrow. "You better hope no one decides to embellish that."

I look at her. "I don't need to hope. That's the truth. Tank will believe me."

Mrs. Carol Jean waves for me to join her and we leave. After we reach her home and prepare for bed, Mrs. Carol Jean joins me in the kitchen.

"So you met Key today, huh?" I look over at her, stunned, and she sighs and nods. "Yeah, the rumors are buzzing about you and Antoine meeting for lunch. Once I heard where, I knew why he took you there."

I pour lemonade and she cuts slices of pound cake and we move to the living room. I turn on the fan and we sit and eat our cake in silence.

"I don't know what to think."

"What's your heart tell you baby?"

I sip my lemonade and sigh. I look at Mrs. Carol Jean and I realize that she's waiting on me to judge her. I can't.

"My heart tells me that Antoine is serious about wanting to make good with Tank. My heart tells me that he resents Tank's birth because he feels his Daddy stopped loving him. And I have no clue what to think about Key."

Mrs. Carol Jean sits back. "And me?"

"You gave birth to five children. You say they all have the same Daddy. I wasn't in your bed and I'm not going to say otherwise."

She looks at me and finally she nods. I see the tears and I pass her the Kleenex.

"This is why I prayed for you, baby," she whispers. "You like Pierre. You don't pay attention to rumors." She wipes her face and smiles. "My babies all got the same daddy. Now, Imma tell you something only two other people in this world know." I lean forward. "Key is Antoine's."

I lean back. "He ran around on you," I breathe, remembering what she said earlier.

"Right," she replies. "Key ain't the only one. He's one of six in Carencro. I know every one of my husband's other children in Carencro. There's three more in Lafayette. I was the 'lucky one' he actually married," she snorts.

"And Reverend Fulmer?"

"Mumps. Sterile. He didn't find out till Key was born that his wife stepped out on him, but he kept his mouth shut cuz he had a son. That's what he wanted."

"Then why did Antoine . . . cuz no one knows that Reverend Fulmer was sterile," I whisper, sitting back.

Mrs. Carol Jean nods. "Exactly. Antoine ain't sure what to think, but the fact that Key and Pierre look damn near like twins when he and Chenae don't look nothing like them makes him and the rest of the world wonder. Now, if you'd seen Reverend Fulmer when he was younger, before he found Jesus and got sanctified, you'd know how those rumors started. He was just as wild as my husband, which is why they was friends." She leaves and returns with a photo album and sits next to me on the couch. She flips to a Polaroid of two men. One looks like Antoine. The other looks like a cross between Antoine and Tank. I look at the names. Antoine LaPierre and Marquise Fulmer.

"Now, this is where the history of Carencro gets dirty. Marquise, Reverend Fulmer, and Antoine, my husband, were cousins. They mommas was cousins but rumor had it they had the same Daddy." She flips to another page and removes a different Polaroid. "Rumor has it that this is they Daddy."

And I can believe it. You can see both men in this man. You can also see Tank, Antoine, and Key in this man. He's got Tank's height and muscles but Antoine's light brown eyes and reddish hair. Yeah, now this makes sense. I look at Mrs. Carol Jean and she gives me a tight smile. I hug her and hold her close for a few minutes.

I have no idea what to say but I know one thing.

Antoine and Tank need to make up. If Antoine is right and Tank's holding a grudge, it's been damn near 20 years. Time to let that anger and hurt go.

* * *

Tank arrives on Saturday morning with Bobby. Mrs. Carol Jean is thrilled to see Bobby, but Bobby shoots me a look and asks to meet with me real quick before walking into the house.

Tank walks right past me. No kiss. No nothing.

"What's up?"

"What went down between you and Antoine?" Bobby asks, looking worried.

"Nothing. We met for lunch. He asked for a lunch like the sisters." Now I'm angry. "You mean Tank decided to judge me before talking to me?"

"He's angry you met with Antoine alone and he's angry that you didn't call him and tell him about it. He felt blindsided because the sisters couldn't wait to tell him. Once Thelma verified it with you, they were on the phone to Tank as quick as it could ring. He was waiting for you to call him."

I'm furious. "Thanks, Bobby. I'll handle it."

He gives me a half-smile and a big hug before heading inside to see Mrs. Carol Jean. I stand out in the yard and try to figure out what to say at Tank. I decide that I'm not going to open this discussion. I was ready to talk to him this weekend about it, but he arrived acting like a fool.

Nope. He's gonna have to talk to me about this and if he accuses me of shit, he's getting his ring back. I'll be damned if I marry a man who won't trust me.

I walk back inside and sit on the couch facing the kitchen. Mrs. Carol Jean is catching Bobby up on all the gossip and news.

"Pierre is in the bedroom," she says, smiling.

I nod but get comfortable on the couch. She and Bobby watch me but say nothing. After a few minutes, they pick up the conversation. 15 minutes later, a freshly showered Tank walks back into the kitchen and grabs a water from the fridge. He looks over at me and I look at him calmly.

No, so far you fuckin' up. You come to me.

Tank's jaw clenches but he kisses his Momma, takes a slice of cake, and joins me on the couch. Mrs. Carol Jean and Bobby are trying not to stare but they are. I bend forward and grab the remote. I turn the TV on and offer it to him. He shakes his head and I turn to Maury on the DVR. I'm getting fond of Maury. It's horrible, but amusing. I love TiVo. I want one of these.

Eventually, Bobby heads to the back to shower and change and Mrs. Carol Jean heads outside to tend her rose bushes. I turn to Tank and look at him.

His face is calm but his eyes are furious.

"How was the ride?" I'm deliberately winding him up and it works.

"Really? That's all you got to say? How was the ride?"

I nod. "At the moment, yeah."

"The ride was shitty."

"Really?" I'm really playing innocent now. "Bobby's Tahoe looks like it might be a smooth ride. I mean, it's not an Escalade but—"

"What happened between you and Antoine?" I see the muscle in Tank's jaw going.

"We had lunch at Paul's."

"Why?"

"Cuz he's your brother and he invited me out."

"Why?"

"Because he felt it was unfair that I was judging him based on rumors. He wanted a fair shake." I shrug. "Seemed fair, so I gave him one."

I can see Tank's trying to figure out where to go next.

"Tell me something Tank," I ask slowly. "What are you so angry about?"

"You met with him and didn't tell me."

"Did I need to tell you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Cuz Antoine can't be trusted."

"Why?"

Tank looks at me in astonishment. "Do you not remember me telling you about my juvie stint—"

"That was 20 years ago. What's he done lately?"

Tank sits back in amazement. I stand up and look at him cold.

"Right now, you treatin' me like Derrick." Now he looks confused. "You arrived, didn't say shit to me, and started questioning me. You want this ring to stay on my finger?" He looks stunned. "Then try again."

I walk outside and join Mrs. Carol Jean. She looks up and smiles.

"Setting a boundary?"

I nod. "He either trusts me or he don't. We 'bout to see if you gon' get a daughter-in-law, Mrs. Carol Jean."

* * *

**Tank's POV**

I'm watching Lula and my momma through the door. They're in the rose garden, laughing and talking. I'm not sure where to begin and I really wanna break Bobby, 'cept I know he's asleep. He drove all night to get here cuz I was too wound up to concentrate.

I gotta learn to listen to Bobby. Somehow, this man calls all my family relationships right.

"Tank, don't walk in accusing her of anything," Bobby said during the drive. "I mean, the rumors only said they met for lunch. The rumors didn't say she was fucking him."

"I know that, Bobby," I said through clenched teeth. "My issue is that she didn't call me."

Bobby shrugged and motioned for water. I passed him a bottle and he drained half before saying anything. "Look, there may be a reason. You have to admit, when you asked Thelma, she said Lula confirmed she met with Antoine. Did she call you after she met with each of your sisters?"

I shook my head slowly.

"Then don't walk in accusing her of anything. There might be a reason. Maybe she didn't call you because there really wasn't anything to say. Maybe she didn't call you because she wanted to talk to you this weekend. Maybe she didn't call you because . . . hell, I don't know. But don't accuse her. Talk to her. Find out what happened."

When we arrived, I looked at my woman and wanted to kiss her and shake her all at once, so I decided to delay the discussion until I relaxed some. I hit the shower and when I walked out I realized she was pissed at **me** for some reason.

What in the fuck did **I** do? **You** met with my lousy brother. You should be explaining this shit to me cuz I can clearly see that Bobby warned you.

When she walked out, telling me I was treating her like Derrick, I had nothing to say to that. I'm treating you like your pimp? What the fuck? Are you kidding me?

I watch Maury ('You are NOT the father!" Cheers from the crowd) and consider how to reopen this discussion. Lula and Momma walk back in and I stand and take Lula's hand. I tug her back outside with me and we walk in the garden for a few minutes while I try to think of what to say.

"I can't believe you accused me of acting like your pimp, Lula," I tell her quietly. I'm hurt by that. "I need you to explain that to me."

"You walked in disrespecting me. You arrived, didn't acknowledge me, didn't say shit to me, but the moment you came back from the shower, you looked at me as if I should jump to your commands," she says tightly. "No fucking way I let you do that to me. I don't care how angry you are, you could at least acknowledge my presence. Kiss me. Say hello."

I consider this. OK, I'll give her this one. She's right. I stop and turn to her. I pull her into my arms and kiss her. That seems to make everything all right in her world because she returns the kiss deeply and the sergeant wakes up from his slumber and twitches, hoping for a release from the brig. I feel her giggle and I break the kiss and smile.

"Hey."

"Hey. Missed me?" She grins and I chuckle.

"Maybe."

"The sergeant did."

"He misses you when you get more than five feet away."

She laughs and that pretty much kills my anger. I'm calm now, ready to discuss this.

"I'm sorry. You right. I shoulda said hello. I didn't want to say anything because I wanted to calm down before I said something that was all wrong. I'm not accusing you of anything. I just couldn't believe you met with him and didn't say anything to me."

She nods. "I know. I thought about calling you, but I decided I wanted to talk about it face to face so I waited." Fuckin' Bobby. How does he always know? "I know about the rumors. Both me and yo' momma heard 'em all week but they was all the same. I met with Antoine."

"At Paul's." She nods. "Where you obviously met Key." She nods again. "And now you wondering if Momma was lying just like everyone else said."

She shakes her head. "Nope." I look at her and she smiles. "Let me tell you what happened." I take her hand and we walk around to the front porch. I listen as Lula tells me everything she was told. Well, almost everything.

"Yo' momma told me things she said she hasn't told no one else, so you need to talk to her. I wanted to talk about Antoine."

I look out into the front garden while Lula strokes my arm. Once I'm calm again, I look at her. She looks amused.

"I don't know what went down between you and Antoine but I do know this. It's been damn near 20 years since he sold you down river. He acknowledges he made a mistake and he wants to make it up to you. I talked to yo' sisters. I talked to yo' momma. Can't nobody tell me nothing about how low down he is except that he don't pay his child support and Tank, he can pay his child support."

I look over at her, puzzled. She smiles and heads into the house. She returns with a stack of papers.

"The money you give Tamika for child support? He's been putting a matching amount into a bank account that yo' momma has access to. So we went to the bank and got the account details. He's been matching your child support for the past five years."

I'm reading the paperwork, dumbfounded. I look at Lula and she looks at me, smiling.

"He said that you hold a grudge. Now, I don't know cuz I've never seen it, but this kinda leads me to think he might be right. You holding his actions when he was a stupid teenager against him. He a man now. He owns the music studio. He has the money for his child support. It's just that all y'all got in the habit of thinking of him as shit just cuz he smokes all day and he don't bust his ass at a 9 to 5. Well, maybe that ain't fair to him. Maybe it is.

But Tank," She looks me deep in my eyes and I don't know what to say, "you need to get to know your brother, the man, and let go of Antoine, the asshole who let you go to juvie. Maybe he still shit, but you won't know till you give him a chance."


	25. The Housekeepers' War, Part VIII

**Chapter 57.5 The Housekeepers' War, Part VIII**

**Lucia's POV**

I've been waiting. When Ella told me about the war against Miami, I got ready. I informed my children I was coming for a visit and I was staying at RangeMan for a few days. They're looking forward to having me and I'm looking forward to seeing how the Miami men respond to me.

Susan reported that after she ruined pounds of chicken breasts, the men apparently had a fight in the break room, including thrown punches. Antonio has been demoted from interacting with the housekeeper and Mario has taken his place. The men worked with Susan to discuss her usual procedures and they executed their first grocery run, which Susan said was successful, but they need work. Apparently, they fidgeted and non-verbally tried to get her to move faster, which she ignored.

We had our first housekeepers' call last week. Ella informed us that Stephanie decided to give the housekeepers room in the RangeWorld to digitize our binders. Once she explained how she thought we could use this, we agreed it was a splendid idea. Plus, it resolved the issue of having our binders manipulated. Maria is still furious about that, but thankfully, she has digital copies of everything that was in her binder. 'Just in case it was ever swept away in a hurricane', she said. So she's ahead of us in the digitizing aspect. Lucky woman.

I arrive at Miami International and I'm met by Armando. He's a cousin, distant on my father's side, and it's been years since I've seen him.

"Mando!" He grins and we hug. It's wonderful to see him again.

"Lucy, you look great!" I scowl and he grins. I hate that nickname. "Where's your bags?" I turn and point them out. We leave the airport and head to my Tía Juana's home.

"So what's your plan?" Mando looks over, confused, and I stare at him hard. "With Antonio."

He sighs and signals to change lanes. "I want the CO to fire him. That way, it's not personal. No one can say I did it for personal reasons."

"_Primo_, you are still his boss. If you want to fire him, fire him. He's making your life difficult. Document him, show cause, and fire him. Did you tell Ranger that Antonio is a problem?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"I can't fire him for anything work-related."

"Except the constant insubordination." I look at Armando hard. He winces. "That's fireable."

"That's also personally related to me. That's what I mean."

"He never disrespected Diego? Thomas? It doesn't have to be you. Hell, you could fire him for the constant disrespect to the housekeepers!"

Mando is quiet, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Are you telling me that the housekeeper, the woman in charge of the health and welfare of the men in your office, is not worthy of respect?" I ask quietly.

"No . . . no, Lucy, I'm not saying that."

"But?"

Armando is quiet. "You've met my mother's side of the family before. You might not have remembered Tony, but they're all like that. They believe in the idea that a woman's place is in the kitchen and in the bedroom. Tony's mother waited on my uncle Pedro hand and foot while he was alive." He sighs deeply. "They truly don't understand the idea that women should not be subservient to men. Mariela is an anomaly to them because she had a career for years and she only recently quit to raise our daughters. So imagine the hell I'll catch if I fire Antonio." He sighs and slumps in the seat. We arrive at Tía Juana's and sit in the car for a moment.

"What did Ranger say?"

"I can fire him if I choose to."

"So you told your boss and got your boss's support to fire him, what more do you want? You need a silver platter? I can probably dig one up." I'm teasing but serious.

Mando swallows hard. He is the same as a man as he was as a child. He creates his own problems. Too much mercy, which leaves him looking short on common sense. I understand wanting to see the best in everyone but not after they've given you so much proof that they're stupid.

"Mando?" He looks at me. "I'll assess him for you. Let's see how much of an ass he is with me, OK? If he acts like a fool with me, fire him. Then you can tell the family you fired him because he disrespected family. I'll help you figure out a cover. But Mando?" I grasp his hands. Mando is biting his lip and looking close to tears.

"You **cannot** continue like this. This situation with the housekeepers is highlighting defects in **your** management. It's putting you on the chopping block. In trying to save your cousin, or avoiding a headache, you are opening yourself up to being fired. And Mando? I guarantee you that whoever takes over the Miami office will not hesitate to fire Tony. So what will your family say when **both** of you are fired?"

Mando clenches his jaw and drops his eyes. Finally, I hear a quiet, "Deal." I nod and we step out of the car.

There's nothing like a late summer party in Miami. The children laugh and joke, we eat seafood till we pop, and everyone enjoys fresh mangoes and papayas for dessert. It's the perfect evening and I tell my children to expect to see me a lot during these two weeks.

I have a feeling that some of the Miami men are not quite ready to let go of their arrogance.

* * *

Armando told me every trick they'd tried on Ella, Rose, and Susan so far, so I think I'm ready. I examine the kitchen and pantry and, when I return to the prep area, there's a delegation of RangeMen waiting.

"Mrs. Diaz?" I nod. "Hello. I'm Deuce. Welcome to RangeMan Miami."

No Antonio. Interesting.

"Thank you. It's good to be here."

"We just wanted to say hello and welcome." The men smile. "We are interested in hearing what you need from us and what we can do to help."

"Thank you." I smile. I've been told that this is as good as it gets. "Well, right now I'm just checking everything out. Who do I need to contact if I need something?"

"Mario. He works closest with the housekeeper. Also Armando. Either one, but you aren't limited to them. We're all prepared to help."

Excellent. The men have gotten the point. I familiarize myself with the pantry and the binders. Everything is in order and looks good. I start by creating granola bars and setting them out for the men while I check health records and determine what's needed. None of the men has any allergies or any major health issues I need to be aware for, so this is straight meal prep. Excellent!

At 7 the next morning, a man pops his head into the prep area. "Lucia?"

"Yes." Jesús, has it been that long since my divorce? This man reminds me of Tony Plana . . . Lord, I'm feeling hot. Did I leave a burner on?

"Holá, I'm Raphael, Rafe." He smiles, showing off beautiful teeth and gorgeous brown eyes. Lord above, Maria _loved_ Armand if she wasn't jumping this fine specimen of Latin manhood every chance she had. He takes my hands and kisses them then motions to the other seat. I nod for him to sit and he smiles. "Shall I fetch coffee?"

"Oh! I hadn't started any."

"No problem. I usually make the coffee when Maria and I chat." He steps over to the stove before turning around with a smile. "If you don't mind? I've watched you housekeepers lay down the law. Don't want to misstep in your territory."

We both laugh and I motion for him to continue. "Since you were so kind as to ask permission, go ahead."

He begins prep for coffee, using a French press (Thank god!). "Well, I have some building maintenance coming up that I wanted to coordinate with you on, but otherwise, I just need to know what you need."

I frown. "Well, I haven't seen anything I need just yet. You need anything from me?"

He shakes his head. "Nope." He frowns. "What's your plan?" My eyes widen and he gives me an amused look. "For the boys? I want to participate this time."

I get up and check outside the room. "This room bugged?" He shakes his head. "I don't know yet. Our orders are simple. Come do our duties as we do them at home. Respond to them honestly and creatively. If they're respectful, treat them respectfully. Accept **no** bullshit. Determine if the conditions are ripe to return Maria. If not, report back honestly."

He nods. "Good plan. Disgustingly simple. Give respect, get respect."

I smile coldly. "They keep screwing up. That's the part I don't understand."

He snorts. "Easy." He brings the coffee over and sits back in the chair. "Antonio is the nucleus of the little group. Little bastard." I stop mid-stir and look at Rafe. His cheeks redden but he nods. "I've heard him talk. It's the way he was raised. From what I understand, he nearly died as a child, so his family waits on him hand and foot. He's been told he's brilliant and special all his life, so he's a selfish, entitled _cabrón_. Problem is, Mando never recognized he had a problem until it was out of control."

"How did that happen?" This is great coffee. Sexy, beautiful smile and he makes a good cup. Wonder what he's like in the sack?

Rafe sighs. "When Maria first started here, I noticed she had tear tracks on her face but I couldn't figure out what happened. If you asked her, she denied anything was wrong. Then her wedding anniversary came around." He swallows hard. "That's the day I figured it out. She'd been here for 10 months and she was a shell of herself that day. I recognized it." He adds some creamer and stirs it thoughtfully. He looks at me and I see deep hurt.

"My wife died five years before I took this job. It hit me with the force of a Mack truck that Maria was still in grief. Worse? I recognized that he must have lingered. I didn't know it was cancer, same as my wife, but I took her out that day. Told Mando that the men would need to fend for themselves. I took Maria to church to pray for Armand's soul then the beach for some peace and quiet."

He takes a few sips of coffee while I say a quick prayer for Armand's soul. He must have been the very best of husbands because Maria is still grieving him after all this time.

"I spoke to Mando when we came back and told him she was grieving her husband. He pulled her file, found out it was her wedding anniversary and went to speak to her. The next day, she was OK and smiling. I'm not sure what Mando said to her but it made a difference. Problem was the men had had 10 months to train her to what they wanted." He lets out a disgusted snort. "Of course, Mando and I didn't see that until this op started. Having you ladies cycle through here and lay down the law has opened our eyes to what we hadn't seen. We hadn't realized she was still in grief." He looks at me, pleading. "She never cried. She never mentioned his name. There are no pictures of him anywhere. We had no idea the extent of her grief."

"How could you miss it?!" I ask, astonished. "The woman oozes grief!"

He looks at me, shamefaced. "Like I said, I didn't realize it until her anniversary. It was clear that day. It was written on her face. The other 364 days she hid it like an expert and if you saw tears on her face, she denied anything was wrong. How much further could we press?"

"And the constant disrespect? How do you explain that?"

He swallows hard. "How were we supposed to know? Mando and I negotiated my contract like opposing lawyers. The housekeeper's duties required addendums but the maintenance men were basic. I don't have addendums to my contract. Everything I do is spelled out. I assumed it was for Maria. Now that we've realized that it's not, that's been an eye opener. The disrespect to all of you is easy to see because they're doing to you what they must have done to Maria years ago.

Now that we know what to look for, it's easy to see. We weren't around when they were ordering her around or telling her what to do. I was washing windows or mopping floors. Mando was in his office." He reddens. "Quite frankly, I was appreciative of the fact that she was willing to bring me a cold drink on hot days. I didn't realize she was doing it for every man in this office. I thought it was professional courtesy, you know?"

He shrugs. "I helped her carry the groceries and I did the grocery run with her on occasion. She brought me drinks, held the air filters, that sort of thing." He sits up and looks at me. "Every man in this building knows how much Armando loves and respects his wife, how much he loves and respects women as a whole. I do not believe that Armando would have allowed this situation to develop had he known what was going on. By the time we figured it out, the men here had had 10 months to train Maria to be _their_ maid. Mando was caught behind the eight ball."

I sit back. Lord help. No wonder Ella feels so guilty and has been reviewing contracts with each of us. Luis's men were covered but Maria wasn't. Maria was the first hire. They must not have had the addendum then. My shoulders slump.

"True. Mando's family is filled with women who will speak up at a moment's notice, but they are all very deferential to their husbands. The men rule. With an iron fist sometimes."

I look up and Rafe nods. "Exactly. This entire situation has exposed a clusterfuck of mythic proportions."

I shake my head. "Ranger? Lester? Anyone in Leadership Core?"

Rafe chuckles. "Now, that's truly interesting. When Ranger or Leadership Core is here the mood is totally different. The boys straighten up when Ranger is in house. They treat Maria much better."

What the hell?! "Why?"

"Because they know Ranger won't stand for it." My mouth drops. Rafe nods. "Let me explain. When Ranger first brought this branch up, if he caught the boys in the club or on the streets getting too fresh or pushy with women, they'd find themselves posted by Ranger the next day."

"Posted?"

Rafe chuckles. He motions for me to stand then stands so close to me that my instinct is to move. So I move. He moves. I move. He moves. I glare at him and he laughs. "Exactly. He did it to them all day. They got the message: You hate this, so quit doing it. Jason, a former employee, got really fresh with Maria one morning. He turned around and met Ranger's fist mouth on." My mouth drops. "Ranger made it very clear that no one would disrespect his housekeeper. Problem is he's not here to enforce that attitude all the time. He's in Trenton or overseas. So, when the cat's away. . . "Rafe shrugs. I slump in the chair. This is unbelievable.

"And when he is here?"

"Then the men are overly sweet to Maria, trying to make sure that he doesn't see it but like I said, Maria had been trained. She would bring around trays of sweets and drinks. She was in the laundry room doing laundry. She was doing the grocery run."

Rafe sighs. "Ranger punishes the men every time he sees them at it, but Ranger's trips to Miami are always short and business related. He was either out in the streets, meeting with clients and suppliers, seeing his daughter, or fresh off a mission. He's not in the office watching the way the men treat Maria. Last year he was in Miami a total of 16 days that we know of, and I know that part of that was right after he finished a mission."

"How could you tell?"

"The Lamborghini disappeared. It wasn't until he was here prepping for his current mission that he caught on to what was going on. He would pop up and watch carefully. He watched the way Maria behaved and the confusion on her face at their attitudes. Next thing I know, Maria's headed to Trenton."

I'm stunned. I'm completely stunned and I can't **wait** to tell Ella this. She's been furious about Ranger's non-response to this problem, but if what Rafe is saying is true, then how could Ranger ever spot this? Even I have to admit that when he's in NYC, he's in and out. Les is in and out. I may catch a glimpse of them twice during a trip. If Maria never told him about the problem and he never spotted it . . . _Cringe_.

I need to hit the church and pray for Mando's soul. He's dancing on the line of being fired. I wonder why Ranger hasn't fired him yet.

"And the men don't listen to Mando?"

"They listen. Then they see that his cousin gets away with it because Mando won't fire him. Jason was fired for insubordination. Mando has **never** fired anyone for insubordination." He shakes his head, smiling. "Mando is a great boss to work with because he respects the men. He talks to the men and tries to hear them out. Ranger? Ranger won't say shit until he's done with you. Then you wish he'd shut up. Example?" I nod. "Bobby during Liam's exit interview. When have you ever heard Robert Brown say that many words?"

I sit back and think about it. "Never."

"Exactly."

* * *

I continue to think over Mando's and Maria's situations as I prep breakfast. I notice a RangeMan standing in the corner so I take out my earbuds and smile.

"Good morning!" I motion for him to come over. "And you are?"

"Good morning. I'm Juan."

I have to work not to allow my smile to drop. "Hello, Juan. Can I help you?"

He shakes his head once. "Nope. Just watching." He looks at me coolly. "I'm curious."

I shrug and continue making baked eggs nests. I look at the stack of turkey bacon and the tomatoes for fresh tomato salsa and smile.

"Mind helping?"

He stares at me. "Excuse me?"

"Do you mind helping?"

"Yes."

I stare at him. "Well, in that case, get out. You're in my way and you're not interested in assisting."

He clenches his jaw. "And if I were interested in helping?"

I point at the stack of turkey bacon. "Then you could lay that out on baking sheets while I prep the oven. Just take care to make sure they don't overlap."

He looks at the turkey bacon and the baking sheets, shrugs, and begins placing the bacon on the sheets. Once that's in the oven and he sets the alarm, he looks over at me. "Anything else?"

I grin big. "Yes, you can cut the crusts off the bread over there and take the rolling pin …" I walk him through how to make the baked egg nests and breakfast is done before I realize it.

Wonderful! The boys might have gotten the point.

Once everything is finished, we take it to the break room and set it out. The men line up and stare at it carefully. They look at Juan, who nods, so each loads his plate. I'm soon awash in cautious praise and I smile.

"Glad you're enjoying it." I leave but stand outside the door, waiting.

"_You sure she didn't poison this?"_

"_I watched her like a hawk. Nothing was poisoned. New problem."_

"_Yeah?"_

"_If you stand around, she'll put you to work. You have me to thank for the bacon."_

Silence, then, _"You wash your hands before helping?"_

I walk away biting my lip to keep from laughing.

* * *

I have a blast cooking for the men. They're curious about the standard RangeMan diet and some even stand around and watch me in the kitchen while I cook. Since they assume I'll poison them, I reinforce that fear by acting suspiciously on occasion and making any man standing in my prep area help. The men here are confused. After I mentioned that Max, Mack, and Hector use kitchen prep time to reinforce their knife skills, the men join me in doing the knife work. To compensate their 'enthusiasm', I've been baking.

They're very vocal with complimenting me and assisting me with whatever I ask for.

The amount of vegetables they're eating lately has confused them, but they haven't complained. Instead, they're mentioning how full they are most of the time. I've merely smiled and mentioned that nutrient-dense food will do that. I arrange for them to get healthy smoothies and I start a wheatgrass station. That gets a lot of weird looks, including a raised eyebrow from Mando, but after he had a wheatgrass shot he shrugged.

"Tasted sweet." He looked at me. "Thanks, Lucia. Now I'm drinking grass," he teased. I punched him in the shoulder and he hugged me around the waist. "Mariela will start feeding me salad again. Sprouts. Alfalfa. Nooooo!" He laughed then turned abruptly and stared at it wide-eyed. "Ranger will love it," he said, awestruck.

I smiled smugly. "Why do you think I installed it? Les knocks those back two at a time in NYC."

The men lined up to try it. I'd say about half will stick with it.

I also go through my laundry rules, namely that I only do laundry for the Core Team. I will treat stains for the men, but I will not wash. I give them a checklist on how to efficiently wash clothes and they're moaning and disappointed but accepting it. I posted information on how to wash their clothes in the laundry room and the men are having fights over whose turn it is to use the washer and dryer.

When Antonio muttered that the men should place a sock on the laundry room door to denote the room was in use, every man in the room turned red trying not to laugh. I retold the 'joke' during the housekeepers' call, trying to figure out what they meant. We had no clue, so Ella called Ram to the phone and asked him. She said Ram turned red and laughed before explaining it to her.

We should've known it was a sex joke.

* * *

**Tuesday**

It's time to execute another grocery run and I'm looking forward to it. Let's see if they try to hurry me along.

"Mario?"

"Yes, Lucia?"

"I need to execute a grocery run. I'd like all volunteers to the prep area please."

"Yes, Lucia. Right away."

Ten minutes later I'm looking at 10 RangeMen. As I'm giving my orders, Antonio walks in with four more RangeMen. The room goes silent.

"Hello! Thank you for joining us." Silence. I'm not intimidated. I simply continue to give orders and, once I'm done, I smile. "Let's go."

"You can ride with me," Antonio says.

"No, thank you. You were late. I'll ride with…" I look over at the RangeMan next to me and smile.

"Chris," he replies.

"Right. I'll ride with Chris. He arrived first." I beam and Chris smiles at me and escorts me to the car. We leave for the Costco and, once inside the SUV, Chris turns to me.

"Smart lady."

"Oh?"

"We've told Antonio not to step to the housekeepers unless he can be respectful."

"Then why are you men continuing to put up with him?"

Chris sighs. "We don't want to. I think this fight he's had with the housekeepers really opened the eyes of most of the men here. Not being fed, not getting our laundry done, and the building not being pristine really opened our eyes to how much work Maria really did." He slouches a bit in the seat and looks at me quickly before turning back to the road.

"We used to think that he got it worst around here. Mando went out of his way to show that he wasn't going to give him any special treatment just because he was family, which we appreciated. But it seemed like that just left Tony open to getting his ass beat on the mats regularly by Diego.

We felt for him. The man is brilliant. He has a lot of good ideas, which Diego implements, and he does his job as head of bodyguard services well. We just couldn't understand why Diego kept beating his ass. Tony said it was because he'd told Mando he should be given a shot as a strategist and Diego didn't appreciate the competition. Now, with this thing with the housekeepers, we see why Mando ignored him. He's an arrogant, selfish asshole. He thinks that because he feels a certain way, that's how it should be and a lot of us drank that Kool-Aid."

I sit back and think. Antonio usurped Mando's authority in this office. That's clear. Because he's family, Mando didn't want to show him any favoritism but he also didn't want the duty of punishing him. He left it to Diego, which is why the men fear and respect Diego, but not Mando. It's also clear that it's widely assumed that Diego is up for the XO position in San Antonio and the men are pulling for him.

That's great but it also means that Mando will have to reestablish his authority in this office before that happens. It also means that if Antonio is still in this branch when Diego leaves, Mando will have a hell of a time justifying his reasons for not giving Tony the strategist position.

Poor baby. He has a long road ahead of him.

* * *

The first grocery store was executed just fine, but I run into a problem at the Costco's. Rico decides he's had enough.

I'm halfway down a canned goods aisle and I direct him and Pedro to stack 30 cans of tomatoes onto the flat cart. They both look at me as if I've lost it.

"Excuse me?"

I'm already moving to the next set of RangeMen, who are waiting near the corn. "30 cans, please."

I can hear him mutter, "That's right, bitch. Try please. You got me out here—"

I turn right back around, march back to him, and twist his ear, making him lean over in pain. The RangeMen form a tight circle around us. I let go of his ear and quickly sweep his feet. Once he's fallen forward, I put my foot in his back. The men look impressed.

"OK, so I see that you've forgotten that the housekeepers are also trained to fight and carry just like you men are. So I'll make sure Armando knows you need a refresher. Now to address your comment. I'm not a bitch. **Your** momma may be a bitch, but I'm not and I'll be damned if you **ever** refer to me in such an impolite manner. You didn't have to come. I asked for volunteers and your attitude is making me wish you'd stayed in the building.

So let's be clear between us, Mr. Suarez. Don't you **dare** come near me for the rest of my tenure here in Miami. Now get up and pull yourself together. You represent RangeMan right now and the last thing we need is to have the public thinking there's going to be an incident."

I remove my foot from his back and march back to the basket where I left my shopping list. I turn back to the men, all of whom look stunned.

"Shall we continue? 30 cans of tomatoes." I point at his cart and continue down the aisle.

* * *

I don't have to inform Armando about the incident when I return. He's already gotten the update. I watch, along with the majority of RangeMan Miami, as my cousin throws Ricoaround on the mats for an hour. Armando is furious and he truly delivers a thrashing to Rico to be admired.

Problem is, it isn't fully.

"Why doesn't he just fire that asshole?" I hear a RangeMan mutter.

"Because Mando's nuts are owned by his mami and his tia," another replies, snickering. "When he finds those bad boys again, he'll fire him. Problem is, when he finds his nuts, half this office will get fired, so you better hope his mami keeps those suckers locked up."

I shake my head. I can see the day is coming. After he cleans up, I join Armando in his office.

"You have some work ahead of you, Mando. The men are starting to admire you again, but they want you to fire the sexists in the office."

Mando looks intrigued. "Really?"

"I think they would respect you more if you did." I repeat the conversation I overheard and watch him turn pale with fury. Finally, he blows out a breath and leans forward in his chair, rubbing his temples.

"Honestly, I think I'm ready. I've had enough."

I stand and sigh. "I have four days to go. We'll see."

* * *

**Armando's POV**

I wish I could just fire Antonio. I would, but then my mami and my tia would be on my ass for months. I brought it up with Mariela and she just stared at me as if I'd lost my mind. She said the same thing Lucia did: Fire him. _Sigh_. It's so simple for others to say, but I'd like to see them **fire** a family member. Every time the words bubble up, I choke. I don't know why. I just do.

At the end of the XO call, Antonio walks into my office. No knock, no waiting for permission. _Sigh_. So I'll take his ass back to the mats for that. He sits in a chair and waits for me to hang up.

"Mando, we have a serious problem here."

"Yes, I know, but continue. Do tell." I slide my blank face into place. This should be interesting.

"This little tiff the housekeepers are on is ridiculous. I can't believe you haven't put a stop to it, or called Leadership Core to put a stop to it."

I stare coldly. His jaw clenches but he continues on.

"Look, Armando, you need to set some ground rules. The men are getting sick of it on the floor. This is home office. We should always be a shining example of what RangeMan standards are and are supposed to be. We barely meet them right now and I can't believe you aren't reminding these women to do their fucking jobs. If you won't, or can't, I will."

My voice is ice cold. "Wrong. You won't do it. I don't ask you to do my job and I don't need you to do my job. All you've done is fuck up. Every time you open your mouth you insert your foot. That's why you aren't in charge and that's why you need to quit trying to do my job. You aren't capable.

At the moment, we've lost Maria to San Antonio. I'm hoping to get a reprieve when I visit the CO at the beach, see if I can win Maria back, but I don't know if I want to now. You've pissed off management. We've had four housekeepers cycle through here saying the same thing. Respect, consideration, and assistance will be required for Maria to come home. Actually, Leadership Core has decided that she will report to San Antonio, no thanks to you, so at the moment it's even out of Ms. Plum's hands." Antonio is red and glaring at me now.

I lean back in the chair and stare at him. "Ranger has given me leave to fire you at any moment. You're family, so I've avoided doing it, but the more you attempt to take my authority, the more tempted I am to carry out the order. By the way, you know better than to walk into my office without knocking. I'll see you on the mats at 1700 for the next two days. Now get the fuck out of my office."

* * *

**Lucia's POV—Between Chapters 59 and 60**

I'm stuck. The incident at Costco's tells me that Antonio should go. I report as much to Ella on my last day in Miami and she sighs deeply then makes her decision.

"Maria goes to San Antonio for a month."

Everyone on the line cheers. Maria isn't on yet (apparently my boys are throwing her a little party) and we're discussing the next moves. I'm surprised to hear a knock at the door and I call for the person to come in.

It's Lester. Everyone in Miami was surprised to see him pop up three days ago and greeted him warmly.

Except Antonio. Les turned a cold look to Tony and said '0500'. Tony swallowed hard and nodded. The hour-long thrashing was watched in silence in Miami. Antonio hobbled away needing stitches in three areas. Les didn't care. He gave Rico two hours the next day for his treatment of me in Costco: one hour for insubordination to management, the second hour for failure to maintain decorum in public.

The second thrashing was more vicious than the first. The blades made an appearance. Rico is on bed rest at home for the next two weeks.

Afterwards, Les gathered the men together for a short speech.

"_My patience with your attitudes toward women is completely gone. Zip, zilch, nada. Insubordination to management will not be allowed. That includes the housekeepers, maintenance men, the Core Team, and the CO. __**One**__ incident and you are looking at "exit interviews"."_ Les stared each man in the face before continuing. _"Management has made the decision to send Maria to San Antonio. Her return is __**entirely**__a decision for her, the CO, and Mrs. Guzman. If she chooses not to return, I suggest that all of you determine how you will explain her loss to Ranger."_

Even I cringed. The men here all swallowed hard and were frightened. They are scared shitless of having to explain Maria's loss to Ranger.

Shane also got his time on the mats, but no one felt sorry for him. Not even me. I've barely spoken to Shane during my two weeks here. He tried to talk to me and I listened, but when he started blaming all his problems on Javier, I stopped him.

"NYC is coming back fast. Their new strategist has no experience in security, but he's brilliant. He works hard. He supports Javier. He develops Mack." Shane pales at that. "Yes, Jorge develops all the men around him. It highlighted your faults. Accept a demotion and quit making excuses. You have no future in RangeMan management."

Shane has been packing his bags and saying his goodbyes to the men around him. He and Lester spoke and he accepted his demotion quietly and is waiting to hear where he'll be assigned, if anywhere.

Lester grins and hugs me tight. "Housekeepers' call?" I nod. "Hey ladies! Hey Tía Ella!"

We all laugh and Ella responds, "I'm not making _natilla_, no matter how charming you are."

"Damn!" We laugh harder. "Well, anything I need to know?"

"I'm sending Maria to San Antonio with you."

"Excellent! I'd like to make a suggestion, if you ladies are OK with it."

"We're listening."

"I think we should really press the point home. I'd like to take Rafe with me too."

"Why?" Rose asks.

"Because the men here believe the housekeeping and maintenance staff work for them. So, I'm going to show them what life would be like if they were required to be in charge of maintenance too. So Rafe will come to San Antonio with me and Maria to assess that branch and determine what kind of housekeeping and maintenance contract we should offer."

"You mean Luis and I won't have to do the assessment?" Ella asks.

"Nope. I think Steph's ready to pass standards, so I'd rather you were in Trenton for moral support when it begins. You think Maria and Rafe could handle the job?"

"I think they can handle anything."

Les looks at me. "What do you think?"

"Rafe would love it," I reply. "He spent the month pointing out to them how little they know about him or Maria. He pointed out that he and Maria know every man's birthday, kids' names, wives' names, favorite sports teams and foods. He knew about Mario's car obsession, Tony's programming skills, and Ignacio's fishing trophies. Then he asked the men to tell him what they know about him. The men were stumped. They couldn't remember his wife's name, his favorite _fútbol_ team, or what he does in his off time. No one knew his birthday and they know his daughter's name but only because he'd warned them off her." Les snorts. "I think it would be great to remind the men of what's important and how different their lives could be without him."

Les nods and I hear Rose snort.

"Damn shame we have to teach grown men to be thankful. Some of 'em could be rotting in a jail cell or could still be out there banging. Instead they have good jobs and all kinds of amenities provided." I nod and squeeze Les's hand. He gives me a half-smile and turns back to the phone. "The quality of life RangeMan provides is something you don't see outside Silicon Valley and places like Google and Microsoft, and they're moaning about it. I think we should strip them of the good life for a while. Let's see what these men are **really** made of."

"Antonio?" I ask Les.

Les leans back and sighs. "My heart and brain say fire him but my instinct says to leave him in place until Steph gets here. Dunno why, but I want her with me when I fire him." He purses his lips. "First things first. I want Steph's assessment of Mando first. Leadership Core has its own opinion but we're waiting to hear what she has to say. That will determine our next move. Then we'll decide on Antonio."

"Ranger gave Mando leave to fire Tony," I tell him.

Les smiles. "We know. That's why we want Steph's opinion. I've heard about Mando from almost every conceivable source so far. Bobby too. The problems at this branch aren't just Antonio's fault. They're Mando's too. He has to take responsibility for his own actions or inaction. We want the CO's assessment before we correct our inaction."

I make a mental note to go light a candle for Mando. He'll need it. Thankfully, the leadership recognizes they own this mess too.

The housekeepers were prepared to run a psyop on them too, as payback for Maria's mistreatment.


	26. Will You Give ME A Chance, Part II

**A/N: PPP means "Puff, puff, pass." Weed Etiquette. I've never smoked.**

* * *

**Chapter 56.7: Will you give ME a chance, Part II**

**Bobby's POV**

I'm trying my best not to laugh, but this is funny. Chiapas all over again.

Tank's high as a kite. He's laid out on the living room floor, passed out, a smile on his face.

Mrs. CJ and Lula are laughing their asses off and the sisters are staring at Tank in shock.

"Is he going to be OK?" Chenae asks, crouched next to Tank. She glares at Lula. "You should be trying to help him instead of laughing at him."

Lula just waves. "He high, Chenae. Only a few ways to work that off." She grins at me and I burst into laughter. Fuck it. I start video-taping this. No one will ever believe me if I don't.

"Well then help him!" Thelma says. They've each crouched next to Tank and are fanning him and gently slapping his face. The husbands are biting their lips trying not to smile. Wilma looks confused.

I grin. "OK ladies, here's the deal. There's not a lot of ways to work off a weed high. He's just going to have to let that pass out of his system. You wanna work off a weed high faster?" They nod. "You gotta do something to get the heart rate up. Tank's ass is too big for me to take him to the track on my own and make him run. The other best way to get his heart rate up requires Lula but I don't think y'all really ready to know how your brother gets down."

Barry and David snort and turn to hide laughs. Mrs. CJ and Lula are rocking back and forth in tears. The sisters look uncomfortable.

Lula grins. "Now, I don't mind helping but—"

"No, no, that's OK," Wilma says, looking at her sisters. "Bobby's right. I don't wanna hear about that." Barry and David break and walk outside. I can hear them laugh from here. They duck their heads back in and motion for all the kids to follow them.

"Is Uncle Pierre gonna be alright, Auntie Lula?" Lisa asks, poking Tank with her foot. Lisa has been sitting next to Lula all morning. She's already in love with her new auntie.

"He'll be fine, baby. You go outside and play," Lula says, ushering Lisa to the door. Lula turns and looks at me. "What you think? Put a fan on him and wait for him to sleep it off?"

I nod. "He's gonna be hungry and horny when he wakes up. Make hotel reservations and get lots of water and snacks. Screw the RangeMan diet. If anything is open, feed him a couple of steaks." I grin big. "Prepare for him to put in work. At least 4-6 hours. Probably more. Get some Tylenol."

Lula does a jig and goes to make reservations. Mrs. CJ shakes her head and starts making tea. The sisters keep wincing and I'm laughing mentally. They really have problems thinking of their brother as a sexual being.

"This happened before?"

"At this level? Once." I grin, remembering.

Only Ranger was more fucked up. That's how the four of us became a true unit, a brotherhood, ride or die. We transcended individuals and become a force. No secrets between us, nothing hidden, no lies.

Lots of weed in Mexico.

* * *

**Hours Earlier**

**Tank's POV**

Between Lula and Bobby, I've been convinced to go to Antoine's music studio and check it out. I'm not sure why I'm doing this, but when I said I would Lula told me she was proud of me. That made it worth it to make the effort.

I arrive Saturday morning and I'm sure I have the right place. There's a thousand cars outside and everyone is watching me carefully. It's a nice building, concrete with reinforced doors and windows. I'm sure I don't want to know why. I step inside and I'm immediately stopped by a . . . attempt at a secretary. One deep breath and her nipples are popping out of that tube top.

"Key!" She walks up and attempts to give me a hug but my voice stops her cold.

"Pierre." No one bothers with Tank around here.

She looks at me close and her jaw drops. "Oh my god, you are Pierre." Cue sex kitten. "Hello. I'm Chrishaundra." And there's both nipples. Titties on display. Jesus. I'm not fucking or wifeing you. I could have you on your desk for free.

"Where's Antoine?"

Now she looks offended. "He in studio three."

I wish my sisters could see this. This is why I demanded they get an education. So they gave a damn about themselves more than this girl does. My sisters waited for the right men. This girl would suck my dick right now if I smiled at her.

I smile at her. Her gaze drops to my dick. I snort mentally. And Les thinks I can't get women. I can get women, if you classify this chick as one. My problem? I'm picky. I won't screw just anything.

She tucks her breasts back into her bra and I walk down the hall. I finally find studio three and knock.

"Come in."

I open the door and I'm hit with the smell of weed. I blink and Antoine stares at me.

"Pierre?"

I nod and he grins. I hate looking at him. I'm looking at Daddy.

"_Shiiiiittt_! You came." He stands and pokes the man closest to him. He walks over and we shake. He pulls me into the room, still grinning big. "Yo, this my little brother, Pierre. P, these my boys." The other three men nod, eyes narrowing.

"Yo' little brother fucking up the air in here. Bring yo big ass in and close the door. You letting all the smoke out."

I narrow my eyes at him, but close the door and look down. Heavy bolster at the foot of the door. So that's how they kept the weed smoke in here. I nod at everyone and take a seat. Antoine looks happy to see me.

"Yo, this is Big D, Santana, and Jorae. We cutting final tracks on the album and gettin' inspired. What brings you here, bro?"

"Wifey."

Antoine tries to hide it but I can see the mention of Lula affects him. "Word? Good woman you got. When's the wedding?"

"May."

"Smooth. Ranger yo' best man?"

I nod.

"How many groomsmen?"

"Not sure. Possibly three." I can see him doing the mental math and not coming up with it. "There's a man you haven't met yet. Hector."

"Oh." He's disappointed. "Need a ring bearer?"

"Maybe." There's an idea for my nephews. I think fast and nod. "Yeah. But let me talk to 'em, OK?"

He smiles and nods. "No prob. They'd love to see you."

The other men haven't stopped the PPP since I arrived and they finally hold a joint out for me. I shake my head.

"Nah. I'm good." I look at Antoine. "Was hoping to get a tour of yo' facilities," I smile and he grins big, "but I see you busy handling business. I'll come again later."

"Nah, we good. Lemme show you around."

We leave and Antoine starts showing me the place. There's three studios and the other two are full of girls singing and guys rapping. We pass Chrishaundra again (she gives me a sultry look) and climb to the second floor. Antoine has an apartment on one side and his office on another.

"You need better security."

He looks at me. "Word?"

"Yeah. I see at least five different ways to break into this place with minimal effort."

"OK. Well, since that's yo' business, let's talk about setting up some time for me to get your professional opinion." I raise an eyebrow and he nods. "Life lesson. Don't assume people will do they professional work for you for free, no matter how close you are." He snorts and mutters, "Or not close."

"Agreed." I take a seat and look around. The office is classier than I'd expect of Antoine. It's a place I feel comfortable in. He has large leather chairs, a big wooden desk, and the room is painted gray. The windows look out to the highway but it's not loud. I'm thinking soundproofing. There's pictures of the family (including Daddy, rat bastard), my nephews, and other people, I assume his friends. There's also pictures from everyone's graduations, including mine from Tulane. I didn't think he attended that. If a man's office is an indicator of who he is, Antoine is unpretentious but deep. People matter. This place doesn't scream business. "So how's the business doing?"

"Good. Biggest studio outside Shreveport or New Orleans. I got decent rates and good contacts with labels so if you want my help with promotions, I charge another fee. I'm good."

"Own the building?"

"Leasing it. The equipment and the 'assets'," he finger quotes, "are all mine, but I'm working on the building."

I'm wondering how much the building cost.

"$250,000." I look over and Antoine has a small smile on his face. I raise my eyebrow again and he shrugs. "Next logical question. How much is this bitch worth." He glares at me. "I'm buying it. I don't need your money."

Well, that answers that question and I appreciate that. "I'd offer, not assume."

He nods. "Thanks, but a man's gotta make his own way in the world."

I nod and sit back. "How'd you get into this?"

"I lived here after Momma kicked me out." His jaw clenches. "After you went to juvie."

Hello, anger. Welcome back. I clamp down on it and listen. Antoine is staring at the ceiling.

"I realized that my Momma kicked me out and didn't nobody but her give a damn 'bout my black ass. Anyway, I started working here part time, tryin' to put my feelings, my thoughts on paper." He grins at me. "The next Illmatic."

I own Illmatic and there's a reason it's a classic. Nas has it. Antoine? I doubt it.

"I was working and rapping and trying to get my shit together and just kinda slid into this. You know? Hustle man. I was selling mix tapes and working concerts and promotions everywhere I could. Junebug, the man who owned this place, told me to quit rapping. I didn't have it. Work on the business side."

Knew it. I grunt but listen closely.

"He pointed out that producers get **paid** for putting together beats. They never had to rap but if you had that musicality, you understood timing and rhythm, you understood business, you didn't need to rap. Sell beats then move into production. So I got a computer and the right software and started putting together beats."

Antoine turns to his computer and plays a few tracks. The first few suck but the more he plays, the smoother they are. By the time he stops, I realize I'm nodding along with the beat, sucked in. He grins.

"Exactly. Look at the number of producers who make it big and they don't rap, or maybe they do but they're big as producers too. Pharrell. Kanye. Stevie J. DJ Khaled. RZA. Hit-Boy. 40. Birdman and Master P," we both laugh at those two, "Shit, Dr. Dre. All of 'em made that money off being a producer. Kanye charges six figures for his time."

My eyes widen. Fuck! Antoine nods. "Exactly. Just making beats, if you sell it to the right person, that's between $5K and $25K. That's how I got my start."

"Nice." And it is. Antoine found the right hustle for him.

He grins. "I stacked my paper, went and worked for a few producers in New Orleans—"

"Is this when you weren't answering your phone and Momma couldn't find you?"

By the time he finally started answering, Momma was sobbing on the phone, begging me to come find his ass. I had the car packed and Ranger was flying directly from Miami to Houston when she called us to let us know he'd been found. Next time we saw Antoine, Ranger popped him in the mouth. He was pissed he'd ever allowed Momma to worry like that. Plus, he'd just gotten back from Bolivia and his head wasn't completely back on yet, but he was ready to stuff that to the side to help me.

I broke Antoine's arm. We didn't speak for two years but he never ducked Momma's calls again.

He winces and nods. "I didn't mean to scare her like that, but I was working 16-18 hours days. The boys I was competing against had music degrees, played in the band, knew all kinds of instruments. What's my musical background?"

We snicker. "Church!" we mutter. We laugh and Antoine passes me a Sprite.

"I was hustling hard. I rose through the ranks but the fact that I didn't have that diverse a background held me back." Antoine switches tracks and starts playing something I recognize as Middle Eastern. I narrow my eyes, trying to place it.

"Moroccan?"

He nods. "Army?"

I nod and he smiles. "Impressive. Yeah. Before I left, the producer I was working with told me to start listening to world music. Broaden my horizons. Listen to all the 60s and 70s funk I could lay my hands on. Listen to every genre, even country," we both wince, "cuz the best beats come from shit no one has heard of or stuff they recognize as familiar but can't place it." He smiles. "I ignored the advice to listen to country until Nelly and Tim McGraw partnered up for a song. Remember? 'Over and Over'? That hit number 3 on the Top 100, number 1 in Pop." He shakes his head. "Next thing I know, I'm listening to Johnny Cash." He smirks and I chuckle.

He switches tracks and I listen to the beat. I can hear the Moroccan track he just played underneath it. It's smooth and familiar.

Damn. Antoine's got some skill at this.

He plays a few more and I realize he's right. I'm listening hard and I recognize stuff but I can't place it, until, "September! Earth, Wind, and Fire." I grin and Antoine laughs.

"That's the one everyone gets, but did you recognize the one before it?" He replays it and I have to shake my head. He switches tracks and I slump my shoulders in embarrassment.

"Fuck you."

He laughs. "Fantasy. Wasn't that your **favorite** Earth, Wind and Fire track?"

"Yeah. I loved that." He plays his beat and I hear it. I'm ashamed I didn't figure that one out. "You're good. I didn't think anyone could hide Fantasy in any way that I'd miss it yet catch it."

Antoine grins and I realize we've been up here talking, without bloodshed and nasty mutters, for 90 minutes. "So, you finishing an album?"

"Yeah. Got my name on it this time, like the big producers. I'm gonna see how this works out. Wanna listen?"

I nod, so we lock up the office and head back downstairs. I nod at his boys and Antoine turns to me. "We tryin' to decide between, like, 20 tracks."

I sit on the couch and eye his boys. They got four blunts in rotation and they're back on PPP. Antoine grins. "Nah, you can't handle that." He turns to them. "Put it out. Little bro is Mr. Ultra Clean Living. The weed will fuck up his performance and the **last** thing I need is my future sister-in-law trying to bust my ass open cuz he can't handle business."

They laugh and I glare at Antoine. I look at the blunts. "Thrilla." That stops all laughs and they look at me. "Mexican. Smooth with a kick at the end. You got anything wrapped in the center?"

One looks me up and down and grins. "You kno' yo' weed, huh?"

I grunt. "And I know yo' weed etiquette is shit."

* * *

**Hour one**

I'm pleasantly high. Antoine and his boys are fucked up.

"I thought y'all smoked all the time." I grin slyly and pass my blunt. They all glare and roll another set.

I'm concentrating on the album. I'd listen to about half the tracks, which means Antoine might have a winner on his hands. It's not bad.

Lula was right. So far, Antoine is someone who, if I'd met him later in life, I might respect. He got his shit together. He has a skill and a business. He and I have been talking about Jayson and Quint. He loves his sons and I'm happy for him.

I'm a little jealous. Antoine had it all when we were kids. I was battling pimples and my voice couldn't decide if I was going to be Barry White or El DeBarge. Antoine was getting girls to drop panties all over the place. He had Daddy's love. Even though he beat the shit outta us, Daddy would take him places. He never took me anywhere. He got two boys and even though I'm cool with never having any, a small part of me wishes that Lula and I could have that.

Then again, I got nothing against adoption if she's interested, and I'm cool with it just being me and her. It's all on her. I'll never, **ever**, make her feel bad for not being able to carry a baby or being uninterested in being a momma. I just need Lula in my life. The time we spent apart clarified that for me.

I'm learning to trust my wife when it comes to people. She's got stellar instincts for trusting people and her track record ain't bad. My wife chooses trustworthy people to be around her, and Antoine, well, he hasn't been so bad today. He got a good business and, well, I don't know if I'd call these guys friends but he has people around him he trusts. Lula said that he wants in the family.

We'll see. He is family but one day is not enough for me to look at him and not want to hurt him.

* * *

**Hour Two**

Two of Antoine's boys are passed out on the floor. I give Antoine my opinion on his album and we listen to my preferred tracks all over again. He admits that all but one of my picks were his favorites so we listen to his favorite track that I didn't pick. I shrug and point out it's similar to another track on the album. He listens, nods, and smiles faintly.

"Nice catch but the topic is different."

"Beat's similar. If I'm listening to the beat, this sounds like track 12."

He nods. "Imma think on that."

We leave the room and check the other studios. Since he's heavy into the album, Chrishaundra's job is to ensure that artists leave their studios on time and that they leave it clean. I read Antoine's list of rules and laugh mentally.

Antoine picked up a few tricks in New Orleans. In short, Antoine's rules could be interpreted as "I ain't responsible for shit that goes down. I give y'all a space to work. That's the limit of my responsibility but I **will** fuck you up if you break my shit."

I mention it and he nods.

"I'm not getting into the middle of fights between artists because you left a track on the equipment and someone came in and stole your beat. I'm not mediating fights between artist's time slots. I'm not getting in the middle of fights about how yo' bitch is fucking someone in yo' crew when you ain't around. I'm not your fucking babysitter."

"No one's dropping yo' ass on Maury?" I ask slyly.

He grins. "You goddamn right."

* * *

**Hour Three**

All Antoine's boys are gone. They woke up hungry and horny.

I notice Chrishaundra's gone. I point that out to Antoine and he nods.

"I warned her, but again, I'm not regulating grown fucking people. She wanna fuck 'em, that's on her." He looks at his bag. "How the fuck did we go through three pounds of weed in one day?"

I chuckle and check my wallet. I pass him $1000 and he laughs. "Yo' knowledge of weed is fucked up **and** on point."

We start talking about people we knew in high school (dead, dead, jail, prison, pregnant, got HIV, _shit!_) and family (no changes there. Leeches.). I tell Antoine the truth about Key and he's shocked silent. He literally doesn't know what to say to that. I step out of his office over to the apartment to grab some drinks and so my brother can come to terms with what I just told him. I step back in and it's clear that, while he didn't cry, he's hurt deeply. I decide to say no more about it. If he's taking it this hard, then our sisters definitely will. I need Antoine to have his shit together before I tell them.

Lula was surprised to find I know 'em all. Antoine and the sisters don't. She couldn't understand why Momma and I never told 'em.

"Simple, Lula Bear. They already had enough reasons to hate Daddy. Why give them nine more? He treated his outside kids better than us. And Antoine loved Daddy. Why ruin the man in his eyes?"

"How did you know?"

"I overheard an argument between him and Reverend Fulmer as a kid. I didn't understand it at the time but when I was old enough to understand I kept my mouth shut. I didn't know how much that would hurt Momma to know. Why give everyone more reasons to hate him?"

She still thinks I'm wrong there. I'm not so sure about this one. Then again, I'll talk this one over with Bobby. Let's see what he thinks. Lula thinks they should know. Momma's always known. Perhaps I will listen to my wife on this.

* * *

**Hour Four**

I've left high. I'm edging toward fucked up and I'm worried. If I hit fucked up, even Lula won't be able to handle my ass and I'll eat my momma out of house and home. Why oh why did I get in a pissing contest with Antoine? I think I've made it clear I know my weed, but he has primo shit and it's been (I do some quick thinking) eight years since Chiapas?

My weed knowledge is outstanding because Ranger, Les, Bobby and I had a case in Chiapas. Ranger and I are the biggest and were the best able to handle the intoxication. So while we got completely fucked up and kept the marks busy, Les and Bobby completed the objectives, namely completely ruining an almost $1 million crop. Between insecticide and fire, we fucked that crop up, but my face is known and hated in Mexico. That's the source of my enemies and the majority of my file.

Ranger and I left Chiapas and hit a brothel. 24 hours later I was still working that shit out of my body. Ranger and I screwed everything walking and I'm sure we didn't leave any food anywhere. Bobby and Les made the mistake of falling asleep. They woke up and Ranger and I were in the middle of a six-girl orgy and we were keeping 'em busy. They started trading shifts to ensure that shit didn't happen again, at least not without them being able to participate.

Meanwhile, Bobby kept me running on the streets and made sure I stayed strapped with condoms. Les did the same for Ranger. It took days for us to feel right again. Some of that weed had been laced with PCP, so Bobby was watching me and Ranger for signs of dependency and paranoia. We were OK but it's one reason I usually stay away from all drugs.

That was our first DEA case after we started RangeMan and the biggest reason they **love** RangeMan. It's the reason I don't take shit in Central America. My face is known from Mexico to Panama. We would take cases, I'd keep the marks busy and Ranger, Les, and Bobby would complete the objectives.

Hell, my face is so well known there, I was on fucking wanted posters. It's the reason I became the inside man at RangeMan and Ranger started taking Middle Eastern assignments. We needed to allow the heat to die down. That's my biggest worry with the San Antonio branch. I'm getting this branch up and running because I refuse to put personal considerations ahead of business, but it is a worry for me. That's also Ranger's biggest worry with his current case. MS-13 originates from El Salvador. It reactivates his face and, possibly, his true name. We always worked under aliases, but if this case gets tied to his real name, we're screwed.

* * *

**Hour Five**

I'm fucked up. I've been in this studio for seven hours and, between what I actually smoked and the contact high, I'm truly fucked up. Antoine's boys returned with 10 pizzas and while we finished those off, Chrishaundra's sucked every dick in this room but mine and Antoine's. Time to leave before she gets hopeful. I'm hiding how pitiful I find her. Damn, no fucking respect for self.

I text Bobby. _Chiapas_.

Bobby: _PCP?_

Me: _7 hours on Thrilla._

Bobby: _LMAO! What you want me to tell Wifey?_

Me: _Gotta hide me. I can't do that to her._

Bobby:_ H8 2 break this 2 U but if U don't tell her, Ull end up sticking your dick in NEthing U can reach. Be real. Time 2 show wifey how U REALLY get down._

Me: _She's had me for hours before._ I look over at Chrishaundra, who looks hopeful. Not a chance. I've just listened as one of Antoine's boys fucked you in the studio. Jesus, help us all.

Bobby: _Not like this. Antoine?_

I look over. He's passed out. _His apt's upstairs. Let's tuck him in. Yeah, you got a point. Hoodrat here thinks she's gonna get a piece. If Lula won't, I'll run miles._

Bobby: _OK. On my way._

I feel a hand on my leg. "Not interested."

She sniffs. "You gay?"

I look at her coolly. "Engaged. She don't play."

Antoine laughs from his position on the floor. "He got that right. Ms. Jackson bout it bout it. You can't handle his woman. Leave his dick alone. I'm sure he's gettin' plenty of 'special attention'."

I chuckle. "Thought you were passed out."

"Nah, but help me get these suckers outta here." He sits up and yawns.

"Bobby's on his way." I stand but I'm barely steady on my feet. Shit. I'm definitely going to end up passed out.

"Good. Chris, go home."

"You ain't shit," she replies, rolling her eyes. She leaves and I look at Antoine, question clear on my face.

"I don't fuck employees." I raise an eyebrow. "No, seriously. No combining work and pleasure. Besides, in this, little brother, we are exactly alike. I want a woman of quality to wife."

I smirk. "Tamika?"

"Mother of my boys but straight hood rat. You know the saying. I'm not trying to turn a ho' into a housewife."

I raise an eyebrow and watch him blush. "Yo woman ain't a ho'. She mighta sold the goods, but she still got some respect about herself." He grins. "Besides, I can't see Lula as a housewife."

I snort. That'll never happen.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Antoine and I are standing just inside the door of his studio when Bobby pulls up. I look over at Antoine and think about the day I've had. With the exception of the one time I saw Daddy in his face, when I first arrived, I tried my damndest to treat my brother like a stranger I'd just met on the streets. Applying that logic, Antoine ain't bad. If I'm really fair, this wasn't a bad day. I'm definitely ending it with more respect for his business hustle than I had when I arrived.

I think about Lula's last words when I left the house this morning.

"If Steph hadn't put aside whatever she felt about hookers to save my life then become my friend, our paths wouldn't have crossed. She put my past to the side and got to know me." She kissed my cheek and waved me out the door.

I look at Antoine and try to put his past aside. It wasn't a bad day. We ain't brothers but we working toward friends. I think.

I raise my hand to shake and Antoine gives me a wry smile and we shake. Men. Equals. I'll try.

"You coming to Momma's tomorrow? Everyone will be there."

He swallows hard and nods. "Yeah."

I nod and walk out. Barry slides from the Tahoe and I toss him my keys. He sets off and I slide into the Tahoe with Bobby. I look back and Antoine's still standing at the door. We nod at each other and Bobby drives off.

"Well?"

I look at him. "He's a serious businessman. Album I'd actually buy."

Bobby raises an eyebrow. We drive back to Carencro and I tell Bobby about the album. We're both quietly impressed.

* * *

I wake and smell Lula's hair. I reach a hand out and find curves. Thank you Jesus. I'm harder than I've ever been in an instant.

I feel a giggle. "We still at yo' Mommas. Don't start if you can't be quiet," she whispers. I think about it. Nope. I know me. Imma bust my woman down and these bed springs **will** squeak.

"Bobby prep you?"

"Hotel room waiting. I already checked in and got the keys."

"You sure about this? It'll be rougher than usual."

"I'm looking forward to it. Besides," she says softly, turning toward me, "my job and my _pleasure_ to meet this need."

I love my woman. The sergeant is dying to thank her for her commitment. "Let's go."

I slide from the bed, turn on the bedside light and hear a gasp. I turn and Lula's staring at the sergeant wide-eyed. He bobs a hello and I grin. Midnight. Good. We might make breakfast if I can work this out of my system.

"Yeah. Who stripped me?"

"I did. Bobby helped." Lula swallows hard. "Damn."

I give her a completely arrogant grin. Yeah Lula, **this** is what I look like when I **need** you. I slip on my sweatpants and a black T-shirt and take her hand. We walk out and run into Bobby. He smirks. "Wait," he whispers. "The sisters are in the living room chatting." He turns around and does something, then sticks his hand back through and motions for us to run for it. I break for it and, in a surprise move, hit the passenger seat. Lula climbs in the driver seat, starts the truck, and we drive off.

"I thought women never drove you in your cars."

I look over at her. "I'd still flunk a piss test right now." I smile. "Don't worry. You'll always be the only woman to drive me in my cars and in my bed."

* * *

**Bobby's POV**

Antoine's arrived. Everyone is shocked and no one knows how to approach his arrival. Something about this actually breaks my heart so I step forward.

"Antoine." I give him the full handshake and he steps back looking confused and grateful.

"Bobby. Good to see you man. What brings you here?"

"Groomsman duty." Lord, they did get high on Thrilla. Those dreads still smell strong. "Scouting out places for the wedding."

Antoine hides a smirk. I look at the mirror behind his head. Chenae has an ugly look on her face. Tank owes me. I've been working on his selfish little sister since she arrived.

"So, where's the happy couple?"

I smirk. "You really need to ask?" He laughs and Mrs. CJ steps over and hugs him. She's a flurry of motion, cooking breakfast and chatting away. He starts telling her about his album and the sisters sniff.

"You **need** to get a real job and quit that rap foolishness. You're nearly 40," Thelma says.

"And you got Pierre high! What on earth were you and your hooligan friends smoking? For Christ sake, I've never seen Pierre walk in and collapse to the floor like that," Chenae says, completely furious.

"Tank said he'd actually buy the album," I say nonchalantly. All conversation stops.

"Well, that's one pity copy," Wilma says, rolling her eyes.

I stare at her hard. "He meant it." Antoine has a small smile on his face and the sisters look confused.

"You wanna hear it?" he asks.

"Can I stay sober while doing it?"

He laughs. "Yeah. I think I can manage it."

"Good. Love to hear it." I grin. "He said you managed to sample Fantasy and slip it in so smooth he didn't even catch it." I wave for him to join me in extending the dining room table. Mrs. CJ looks at me gratefully. It's not necessary. I love this woman like my own mother.

"Earth, Wind, and Fire? No way. Pierre loves that track," Wilma says, shocked.

"I'm thinking that'll be track six. Middle of the album," Antoine says, smug.

Barry and David jump in with questions and, between us and Mrs. CJ, we carry the conversation, locking the sisters out. Breakfast is ready and we're sitting down at the table with Tank and Lula appear.

"Morning," Lula sings cheerfully. I'm watching her. Tank wore her down. She's stiff and walking bowlegged but the grin tells me she enjoyed every minute. I look at Tank. He looks calmer and is eyeing half the table. I'm glad I told Mrs. CJ to cook triple the normal amount. I might have underestimated. Tank's got a serious case of the munchies and Antoine's not looking like he plans to slouch either. Tank nods at everyone and we all sit at the table at our usual seats.

Except Lula and Antoine. They don't have a spot. I hop up and while the sisters move the breakfast dishes, Tank and I add the last leaf to the table. Now everyone has a spot and we sit and Mrs. CJ says grace. Everyone digs in and I'm amused to see that I wasn't far off the mark. The sisters watch in amazement as Tank and Antoine put away half the food.

I'm waiting for Chenae to start mess. I'm sure she'll do it.

"So, Pierre, Antoine was telling us about his album. I was surprised to find you listen to rap, given your feelings about misogyny and inappropriate lyrics."

Jesus. What a snob. Celebrate the fact that Antoine's not shit, dammit! He's about to put himself out there big time with an album!

The table is silent. Tank wipes his mouth and looks down at Chenae.

"First, your brother's album is more appropriately characterized as hip-hop, in the best of the tradition. It's slick and he's been working on it for a long time. Seems to me that you could listen to it before you judge, as I did."

Chenae's eyes are wide and she swallows hard.

"Second, it's good. Lots of 70s and 80s funk, jazz, and Afrobeat." He grins at Antoine, who's started laughing hard. "I finally placed it last night. Fela Kuti." They slap hands. "Damn. That's obscure to most people."

"Exactly, but he was huge in Africa. Shame no one knows."

"Nice," I reply approvingly. "I have _Zombie_."

"Yeah, Bobby hipped me to Fela. How'd you hear about it?"

Antoine snorts. "If you start listening to world music, you hit Africa and everyone tells you to get _Zombie_. It's the jump off."

We nod. Again, we start talking music and we lock the sisters out. Even Lula looks confused but interested. She's straight hardcore rap. Mrs. CJ's eyes are bright and shining. She's thrilled. Her boys finally have something to talk about.

We clear the table and Tank and Antoine move outside to talk. I grab Chenae and pull her outside with me.

"What's wrong with you?"

She glares at me. "What do you mean, what's wrong with me? Nothing's wrong with me."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?"

I grind my teeth together. "You aren't 12 anymore. This confused look doesn't work anymore. You're a grown woman. Act like one."

"What? You mean like my big brother's wifey? OK." She starts pulling off her shirt and I yank it back down and stare at her, shocked. "What? I'm not big enough? Loud enough? Too much class? Too much education? Clearly my big brother wants something different from what he raised all us to be. I'm trying to be his ideal. My brother is my ideal. I want a man like him."

I step close to her and hiss in her ears. "You know what your problem is, Chenae?" She looks at me, jaw clenched. "Too much fucking ego. Too selfish. You aren't a child. You're a grown woman and, instead of being happy for your brother, you're determined to piss all over his choice when all he's ever done, all his life, is support you."

I step back and look at her up and down. "You know why I'd never step to a woman like you?"

"Why? Pierre?"

"Nope. Your brother wouldn't stop me approaching a woman I was interested in." Something in her eyes passes but I hope she gets over that. Chenae leaves me cold. Plus, I'm too old for her. I'm not trying to raise grown-ass babies. "I wouldn't step to you because you're only interested in my wallet. Fuck the rest of me." I look at her and she doesn't look shocked or embarrassed. Yup, I'm still calling this child right.

"You want someone from old money, like me, right?" The nerve in her jaw throbs. "Well, I'll tell you, in Atlanta, we all know each other. You don't have the right background. My undergrad is Morehouse. I grew up off Cascade. My family marched for civil rights. I have the right clubs, the right pedigree. I can drop certain words in convos and establish myself in minutes with the groups that would ignore you for years.

That's what your brother has been trying to teach you. This shit doesn't matter. Women in Atlanta look at me and see another thug. Black man, with braids and an Army background. They don't know how I clean up and what my background is. So I choose the women who talk to me when I look like a thug. Because they're interested in the **man** they see, not the wallet. Not the degrees. Not the money.

You wanna know why they're ignoring you in New Orleans? Cuz they know you don't have that background and you **reek** of social climber. You're learning the stuff they've been taught since they could walk and talk. Oh!" I pretend surprise. "Isn't that what you said about Lula? That you gotta teach her simple shit?"

Chenae swallows hard.

"Congrats, Chenae. I'm having to teach you simple shit about human kindness and how to treat people like people and individuals." I step back and stare at her. "When you pull your head from your ass, maybe your brother will listen to you again. When you pull your head from your ass, the men you want, like your brother, will pay attention to you. You're chasing after men like me, who know you're a poseur."

I walk away. Chenae needs hard life lessons and, oddly enough, I think Antoine needs to take over now. Tank's not going to be able to reach her at this point and he doesn't need the stress. Antoine can teach Chenae what life is like when you fall and have to stand back up. Tank's taken her as far as he can at the moment. Time for Chenae to get to know the brother she despises.


	27. We Woo, Part I

**Chapter 59.5: We Woo, Part I**

**Ram's POV—Sunday Afternoon**

I've had it. I've been staring at this computer for four hours now, moving stuff around, cataloging it, trying to get the Trenton RangeWorld ready for deployment. My butt is numb. Time to move.

I pull up Fandango and check out the movie listings. Great! A superhero movie is in theatres and it's one I've wanted to see for a while. I hop up and stretch then check my wallet. Yup. We're good.

My moves are gaining attention.

"Ram?" Bobby asks, frowning.

"_I've had it, sir," _I reply, smiling._ "If I look at that screen for one more minute today I'm going to scream. Time for something new."_

Everyone looks at me, confused. I turn to Steph.

"Steph, may I have the pleasure of your company at the movies? There's some good ones starting in 45 minutes, if you're interested."

Steph grins. "Great idea, Ram!" She pops upstairs and I smile, smug, and follow her upstairs. I pop into my bedroom and look for my sneakers and a light jacket. I turn to find Adam and Bobby in the room with me.

"_Executing the list?"_ Adam asks, smiling.

"_Had not thought of it, but yeah, I guess you can check this off._"

Bobby looks confused, so we give him the quick rundown. He grins.

"_I'm impressed. I'll coordinate with the guys and we'll do what we can from our end._" Bobby high fives me and I run over to Steph's room. Gotta bust her bubble real fast.

"Steph?"

She's pulling on shoes and looking for a jacket. I see she spent her time changing and applying makeup. See, this is the stuff about women I'll never understand. We'll be in the dark the majority of the time!

"What's up, Ram?" She's found the jacket and is looking at me, excited.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, but I've got to bust your bubble now." Her smile drops. "I'm giving you a choice."

She attempts to raise an eyebrow and I grin and shake my head. She pouts. "What's the choice?"

"Popcorn and soda at the theater or a small ice cream cone on the boardwalk later."

She looks confused. "What kind of choice is that? Popcorn and soda are a part of the movie experience, Ram. You have to have them!"

I shake my head. "A medium popcorn and soda racks up at 1200-1400 calories. For a woman of your size, and I'm not even going to attempt to guess your weight," she grins, "that's ½ to 2/3 the calories you should have all day. Add extra butter and we're talking some serious cardio to work it off."

Steph's shoulders slump. "So I can't have popcorn?"

I smile. "You can have it. Just be prepared to have Bobby drag you out of bed and make you run for three straight hours." Her face looks horrified. "Exactly. Look, I love the movies. I go all the time in Trenton. It's my guilty pleasure, but I don't eat anything there. That's why I suggested the ice cream cone. We can have a small ice cream cone and walk the boardwalk later tonight. Nice way to end the day."

I smile and watch her consider it. "Any flavor I want?"

I nod. "Any flavor. One scoop." She scowls and I grin. "Again, it's a cardio thing. I know my boss. He won't mind being the task master."

"I thought Sunday was supposed to be the off-day," she grumbles.

"From exercise. Diet? Nah. Diet is eternal."

She laughs and, finally, she nods. "OK. Small ice cream cone on the boardwalk." She sighs. "Now what am I going to do with my hands during this movie?"

I grin. Thumb wars?

* * *

Somehow, my invitation was reinterpreted to be a group thing, which made me grumble. The guys decide to see the superhero movie I want to see and I end up sitting through a rom-com. Why did I give Steph the option? She laughs at me at the end of it.

"Enjoy it?"

"It ranks with getting my wisdom teeth pulled. Not a horrible experience, but," I shrug, "eh."

Steph laughs. I steer us toward the boardwalk and right to Jenkinson's, the arcade.

"Skee-ball?"

She grins deviously. "You're going down."

I smile. That's what she thinks. An hour later, we stop and assess. Tie and my arm is tired. I grin. "OK, we're tied and I'm not willing to concede defeat."

"Me neither." We look at each other and Steph grins. "Aquarium?"

Yes! "Good idea." I grab her hand and we walk toward the aquarium. Steph is giggling beside me. "What?"

She smiles. "I might be the CO to everyone else, but to the Trenton RangeMen, I'm baby Stephanie to be pulled everywhere." I stop and tilt my head. "You guys always grab my hand whenever we go anywhere, you and Hal especially. I find it hilarious."

"Do I need to let go?"

She shakes her head. "Nah. I find it kinda cute."

We keep walking and finally I turn to her. "We don't mean it as a disrespect thing. We like you and have for a long time. For most of the men at Haywood, you're the only non-family woman in our lives besides Ella. That makes you extra special, our little sister if you will." Steph grins. "I dunno, I guess out in public, around strangers, we tend to think of you as both our little sister and the CO. We check for threats and prepare to take orders. We keep you close. We're ready to beat up bad guys and bullies." I grin. "We're ready to leave Joyce in the Pine Barrens again."

We both stop and laugh about that.

"If we do that again, every man at Haywood wants in on the action. They were impressed with your plan. 'Diabolical' was used often." Steph's collapsed against me in giggles. I take her hand again and start walking toward the aquarium. I pay in tickets and we start walking around.

We enjoy looking at the fish and I'm thinking about what she said. "Steph?" She looks over. "We love having you as a RangeWoman. We really do. Every man in Trenton was thrilled."

She smiles. "I remember. Junior looked as if he would break into song."

I consider that and double over laughing. "Nah, not a chance. But the reaction you saw that day? It was real. We've long wanted you in the company."

"Why?" Steph looks at me seriously. "I'm a walking disaster. You've been bullet grazed twice with me. Men have been injured in my presence. I'm not around that often. So why was everyone so happy?"

I sober. "First off, I never again want to hear you call yourself a disaster. I mean that." Steph looks at me wide eyed, but I hold her gaze until she nods. "You are not a disaster. Your luck is shit." She laughs and I allow a small smile. "Your issues came from a lack of training. That's it. For a bounty hunter with a hatred of guns and a dislike of exercise to have your record, the word 'disaster' **never** applies."

I take her hand again and tug her to the next tank. She smiles.

"Second, you remind us of what's important. Yeah, I've been injured twice with you, but that's twice I've been able to prevent your death. For a sniper, that's a new feeling. We shoot from a distance. It's not personal. When we're with you, the danger is real again. I have to pull out all my training, expect the unexpected, and remember not to be fooled by outward appearances." I grin. "Watching Hal fall for your smile reminded every man that the enemy can be deceiving."

Steph laughs. "I'm not the enemy."

"No, you weren't, but you were a distraction from the orders, from the assignment. The orders were to keep you safe. Hal forgot that sometimes the client is also the enemy, especially when they don't see the threat. You reminded us all of that."

We start walking again and I smile. "You are the best test of a new RangeMan in Trenton." Steph looks over and I nod. "Each new RangeMan is ordered to guard you. The ones who can do it successfully, meaning without getting on your nerves, leaving you open to attack, or losing you, are hired. Until a new man manages that, they stay on supervision."

Steph looks at me, bewildered. "They don't hate me for that?"

I smirk. "The smart ones realize that there must be a deeper meaning to the assignment. They always pass. The stupid ones complain. They're put under scrutiny and we bounce two out of five of them." She attempts to raise an eyebrow again and I shake my head. She pouts. "The smart ones realize quickly that partnering and guarding you will require all their skills and abilities. Nothing is to be taken for granted. This is before we've even told them of your connection with Ranger or the branch. You're the final assignment. Every man **must** pass."

Steph sighs. "I still sound like a hassle and headache."

"Talk to some of the new men. They already like you. Know why?" She shakes her head. "Because they've seen that you never give up. You'll figure out a solution. Even better? Something's going to happen when we're out in the field with you. Sometimes it's funny. Other times it's dangerous. No matter what, you're not to be harmed."

We walk to the next tank and Steph smiles. "I've wondered what the guys think of me. You guys don't talk much."

I grin. "As a sniper and the former head of the monitoring unit, I'm accustomed to sitting in silence for hours on end. Being out in the field with you is fun. No matter what, you always got your skip."

"I had to. It was my paycheck."

I nod. "When Ranger first started ordering us to guard you, we grumbled. Silently." I look at Steph, who is frowning. "We didn't get it. It only took a few trips for us to get it. We thought **we** enjoyed action. Nah. Partnering **you** got us action."

Steph laughs and we stand in front of the shark tank for a while, just enjoying each other's company.

"Glad I could serve as entertainment," she says softly.

I sigh. I knew I'd have to address this at some point. "Steph, you aren't entertainment to us. Your situations are hilarious but you? By yourself, you aren't that funny." Again, she attempts to raise an eyebrow and I try not to laugh. "The definition of entertainment is something that holds the attention and interest of an audience or gives pleasure and delight. Operative word? Some **thing** and last I checked, you are definitely a person, not a thing. You're not a circus sideshow. If your life was a circus, you'd be the Ringmaster, not the clown."

We walk to the next tank quietly. I consider how to press this home. "There's a difference between laughing at you and laughing at the situations you seem to find yourself in. Laughing at you is disrespectful of you as a person. It's why the RangeMen have very little respect for Trenton PD. They laugh **at** you. They think it's a joke. They bet on your life. If we could get away with it, we would break their legs. Slowly."

I look over and Steph is nodding, subconsciously, I'm thinking.

"If you'll notice, when **we** retell the stories of your personal escapades, we focus on the other players. We marvel at the insane methods they come up with to avoid being brought back into the system. We shake our heads at how you seem to lose cars, purses, handcuffs, guns," I snort,  
"damn near everything but you still get your skip, even with Lula's 'help'," I finger quote this, which makes Steph smile, "and with Joyce dogging you all the way. We applaud your creativity and ingenuity in capturing them. **We** don't consider you a joke. We consider you a colleague who has shit luck and finds herself in the middle of hilarious situations.

Best example lately? Joyce, the day you slipped her tail. You were out, minding your own business, and there she is, dogging you. Why? Who the hell knows. But watching you slip her was the best amusement Hal and Junior had had in weeks. Why? Because yet again, you showed that you're smarter than she is. The situation was funny. You? Not you."

Steph smiles. "Yeah, I remember Hal saying 'great entertainment value in this'." She looks at me and nods. "The situation I was in, not me directly."

"Exactly."

We haven't stopped walking, but now Steph stops and looks at me. "Ram, thank you. Thank you for telling me that." I nod. "When Ranger said you guys saw me as entertainment, I got mad but I shrugged it off. I just added you to the list, like the cops."

I could body slam Ranger right now, if I weren't certain that would lead to instant death.

"OK, first, Ranger has shit communication skills. I hope you've noticed."

Steph blinks, eyes wide, then laughs. I guess that was funnier than I expected because she leans against me and laughs long and hard. She wipes her eyes and asks, "What's your degree in?"

"Mass Comm. Minor in PR."

"I thought so," she grins. "You have a way of saying things that cuts right to the point."

"Another reason I love my job. Right to the point, no extra words needed, required, or expected. And I should clarify here. Ranger gives orders. Anything else requires ESP and if you don't have it, you have to ask questions. Clarity is not always his strong point." Steph nods. "Second, Tank gave Ranger a concussion for saying that."

Again, Steph stops and gapes. I nod. "He was _pissed_ at Ranger, believe me, because he saw what we all later realized. Telling you that gave you even less of a reason to take your life seriously and that scared us."

Steph nods and we exit the aquarium. I tug her toward the beach, earning a grin, and we pull off our shoes and admire the sun. As it sinks into the sea, Steph asks me a question I never expected.

"Ram? What do the RangeMen really think about my relationship with Joe and Ranger?"

This is worse than knowing I have a fellow sniper aiming at me. I think carefully about how to answer this.

"Steph, I'm going to answer this honestly, as a man who loves you and respects you. I mean no harm or hurt." She nods and I pass her three handkerchiefs. They'll be necessary. "I'm also going to give you our perspective, knowing that we're missing a lot of details. Ranger doesn't talk about," I grasp around for a word then shrug, "his relationship, whatever you two have, with anyone except maybe Core Team. Maybe Tank knows the most of anyone."

Steph nods. I hope I've laid a decent foundation.

"Honestly, we're confused. I've never liked Morelli because he screams at you at your incident scenes. No matter how scared and upset we've been, we've never disrespected you in front of your fellow professionals, and the cops, firemen, and EMTs are your professional colleagues. That's why we don't respect him. We don't like or respect the cops now because they bet on your life. They think your incidents are funny, but not like we do. They see all of it as a big joke. If we could get away with it, we'd break their legs, and I mean that."

Steph's eyes widen. I clench my jaw. I'm pissed just thinking about their lack of respect for her life.

"No one who would bet on your life is a friend. It shows no respect for you, your life, or the situation. What would they do if that accident was fatal?" Steph pales. "You aren't a cop. You don't get cop benefits. So what happens to that money? Are they going to buy flowers? Are they going to console your parents?" I snort. "Hypocrites. I can just see them telling 'funny' stories at the wake and never mentioning that one person won $1000 on that incident or someone else won $500. Because it wouldn't be funny."

The tears are flowing. I knew those handkerchiefs would be necessary. I sit quietly and give her some time to think about that. The next bit will probably surprise her.

"We **hate** that but we're irritated with Ranger too."

Steph looks honestly stunned.

"Seriously. You two are clearly in love. It's obvious even to blind men. Everyone knows." Steph is pale. "Ranger wrapped you in his name in the streets. You had full access to RangeMan, something no other person has. He loaned you cars and made it clear to any man that if you needed assistance, we should feel free to provide it. It would be covered." Steph's chewing on her lip. "We're not stupid. We know that you know his secrets. We know you know more about him than anyone besides maybe Tank and that's because Tank knows the Army stuff. We know he considers you his woman. We know to stay quiet and out of sight every time you and The Cop get back together."

Steph's looks up sharply. I nod.

"No man wants to be the unlucky fucker who earns mat time when you and Morelli reconcile. And honestly, that pisses us off. Why do you continue to run back to a man who doesn't respect you? We give him credit for one thing and one thing only." I look at Steph, who has tears running down her cheeks, but she's listening. "He cares about your safety. It's clear he does and we know that because he's teamed with Ranger, a man we know he hates, to ensure it. For that reason alone, we continue to _attempt_ to respect him professionally.

But personally? Why? Why do you keep going back? Being with him means giving up anything you want to do and becoming another 'Burg clone, dinner on the table at 6 p.m., church on Sunday, little league and hockey games. There's nothing wrong with that, but it's crystal clear that you won't be fulfilled doing that. So why?"

Steph says nothing, but the tears are flowing.

"Now with Ranger what irritates us is this: If you won't make a move on a woman when you have an opening, quit playing with her. Problem is, we can't blame him. How would Ranger know he has an opening? You and Joe make up and break up every other week and no man wants to be the rebound.

We don't get it. They've both been clear about who they are. If you can't live with either man, dump them both and find a new man. It's insanity and they aren't your only choices in Trenton. We don't understand it. We love you. We love Ranger. We wish you'd both quit lying to each other and get together so we can all be one big happy family."

Steph giggles and nods. So far, so good. I let out a breath and consider what else I need to cover. This is a golden opportunity to help my boss and my mentor get together, and if I can make that happen, in any small way, I will.

"We also knew that a big reason Ranger would never offer you anything more was because you don't take your life seriously." Her shoulders droop. "You are already his best known weakness. You're the best known weakness of RangeMan Trenton. It's why he goes overboard with the trackers and cameras and watching you. He didn't want anything to happen to you. We'd all go insane. We have standing orders to protect you at all times and, knowing what I now know about RMTrenton's finances, you were an expensive duty."

Steph raises a hand. I clench my jaw and look out to the sea for a few minutes. I knew that would hurt but it had to be said. Better swing back to Ranger if she lets me talk again.

"Ok, go on," Steph says quietly.

Whew! "Ranger has bad communication skills because his communication is limited to issuing orders. As a commander, Ranger is the best. His orders are clear and concise. I can march for days on his orders. You don't respond to orders, and the Army has trained him and the rest of Leadership Core not to talk. Think about it. Les is the most talkative one of the group but he's not that talkative.

So if you were hoping to get some kind of big heart to heart from him, some gushing statement of feelings, it's not going to happen. Not easily, anyway. Think about the amount of talking all of RMTrenton does. We've all been trained to keep our mouths shut, regardless of whether we learned it on the streets or in the military. That's how we know he loves you."

I look at Steph, who looks confused. I smile and shake my head.

"Ranger, a man who is known for not being attached emotionally to anyone, put it out that you were his woman. He gave the world a chink in his armor at a time when you could easily get him killed because you wouldn't train. You were tied to another man. You run to the aid of others without a credible extraction plan. By the time Julie was kidnapped, it was crystal clear what you meant to him because you were aware of Julie. All of the men at RMTrenton were stunned to learn Ranger had a daughter but you already knew. I would guess that you are the person who knows Ranger best in this world and that makes you a very powerful person. I'm guessing he never just said, 'Stephanie, I'm worried about you. I'd like you to get some training and carry your gun and maybe we could talk about something more between us'?"

Steph snorts. "Are you kidding me?"

I snort. "Thought not. In any case, we all know the limitations for ourselves. The few married men in the branch, like Sybo and Vic, their wives know the deal. They don't discuss RangeMan or what the guys do. The guys don't discuss their jobs with their wives. But each of their wives has had defense and gun training." Steph looks at me, wide eyed, and I nod. "Just in case. Being connected to RangeMan might make them targets. We could be wrong, but better safe than sorry. You're the only person with a connection to RangeMan that didn't have training. We've wanted to train you for years but Ranger said that it had to be your decision. There was an open invitation. Did you think we were going to kill you?"

"No, but I hate exercise and guns. You mean their wives agreed?" She looks thoughtful.

I nod. "Layla Diaz is also a Marine. She's a teacher now but she understands the danger Sybo might be in. Nadia Zullick was harder to convince, but all it took was _you_ getting kidnapped once and she got it. She started training the next day. That's why we were so thrilled you agreed to be a RangeWoman for a year. We hoped that we would get a chance to show you how much we love you and that training didn't have to hurt. It didn't have to be boring. Working with you gives us a chance to be creative. Seeing you become the bad ass?" I grin. "Who else except our CO could catch a skip by opening a car door and slamming it into him?"

She laughs and leans against me. I grin and move the curls from my face.

"Hector told that story everywhere. We loved it and _those_ are the kinds of stories we tell. Our CO is badass. We can't wait for you to clear standards and start catching skips again. We're thinking about opening a pool on how long it takes. Smallest number wins. Our pools involve monitor duty shifts."

Steph howls with laughter. Monitor duty is **hated**. All Hal has to do is suggest it and **everyone** straightens up.

"That's the kind of bets that are OK at RangeMan. Bets about how badass you are. Not bets where your life is in danger. Not bets that make a joke of your life. RangeMen have, as a whole, seen too much death to take it as a joke. It's the biggest reason why every man, no matter how much he wants to deck Ranger, won't. Because we understand."

"Then Ram, explain it to me." Steph looks serious and I stop and think about how to say this.

"Every man at Haywood dreads the day we get the call that we're already too late. That you're dead in a puddle somewhere. That you slipped your trackers and headed off to catch a skip without a gun or a stun gun and they got the best of you. We **hate** that." I look at her and emphasize that. "We don't understand. This is a dangerous profession. We don't understand why you keep going after dangerous people without protection." I clench my jaw. "Steph, please explain that to me."

Steph looks out into the ocean. The moon is up.

"I don't like guns. Guns mean death. My first capture, I got shot in the ass and had to kill a man." Steph looks at me. I can see the tears and hear them in her voice. "I killed a man. It doesn't matter that he tried to kill me. I took someone's life. I've never forgotten the way Jimmy Alpha looked collapsed on the ground."

I sit quietly and think about her statement. No can do, Stephanie.

"Can you kill me with a spoon?"

Steph looks confused. "No."

"Wrong. You could easily kill me with a spoon. Stick it down my throat. I'm dead." Steph stares at me. "A spoon on its own isn't deadly. It's the way you use it that makes it deadly."

"Nice try, Ram, but a gun's only purpose is to kill."

"Or maim. Or simply as a threat. Same as a knife. You use a knife every day but you don't see it as a deadly weapon. Perhaps you should. You know Hector is known for his use of knives." Steph nods. "So is Les. Blades are deadly but Les and Hector still carry guns. They're just known for their use of blades. That's all we're asking of you. Have the gun and be prepared to use it, but you don't _have_ to use it. Use your stun gun. Use your knees. But stop taking a smile to a gunfight."

Steph leans against me and nods thoughtfully. My phone beeps.

_Kidnapping my partner?_

I snort. _On the beach. Difficult talk. We're OK._

_It's dark. Bring her home soon._

"Old woman," I mutter.

Steph snorts. "Hector?"

"How did you know?"

"I know my partner. He worries."

Understatement. I glance at my watch. 2157. OK, time to head back. Steph is drooping. I stand up and pull her to her feet, brushing sand off both of us. She grins sleepily. I take her hand and we walk slowly back to the rental. Hector is at the door. He gives me a quick glare.

"Stop, Hector." She stops, thinks, then says, "Parar, Hector." He raises an eyebrow and she turns to me. "I can't come up with 'I had a good time tonight so stop glaring' fast enough. Help!"

I grin and repeat the sentence in Spanish to Hector, who rolls his eyes. He takes her hand and guides her up the stairs. I pop into my bedroom and slip into my sleep pants, then head back downstairs for a beer. I find Bobby in the sunroom, kicked back with a bottle of water. I sit on the other end of the couch.

"How'd it go?"

"Good. She had fun. We had a good talk." He looks over at me and I nod. "I was able to clear up the 'entertainment' situation."

Bobby grimaces and nods. "Good. Thank you."

"And explain Ranger's lack of communication skills." Bobby raises an eyebrow. "The CCO gives orders. Anything else," I shrug.

Bobby shakes his head. "I continue to marvel at your skills."

I smile. "I'm hoping I've gotten her to see that the cops' betting on her life isn't funny."

Bobby looks over at me. "Ram, if you manage that, you will officially go on my short list of men I admire."

I grin. Bobby's long been on mine. "Hector's an old woman."

"I dare you to tell him."

I look at Bobby. Bobby looks at me. We both laugh.


	28. The Housekeepers' War, Part IX

**The Housekeepers' War, Part IX—San Antonio**

**Week One**

**Maria's POV**

I am very interested in meeting the San Antonio RangeMen. This will be the first time I'm walking into a branch where there isn't an established housekeeper. I'm not following in someone else's footsteps. It's just me this time. Rafe is also looking forward to a month-long vacation to another location. We're giddy about this opportunity.

Lester, Tank and Rafe meet me at the airport. True to his silliness, Lester picks me up and twirls me around.

"Maria!"

I giggle and Tank slaps him on the head. He turns to me and gives me a warm hug, as does Rafe.

"Maria, welcome to Texas. Where are your bags?"

I'm astonished. That may be the most words I've ever heard from Tank. I look over at Lester, who is laughing.

"Wait till we get her back to the office to shock her, Tank."

Tank glares at him and picks up my bags. Rafe and Lester collect Rafe's bags and we follow Tank out to the SUV.

"Welcome to San Antonio. You know we've been working with the men out here for the past few months, but it's the first time we've had a housekeeper out here," Lester says, smiling.

I nod, smiling. **I** get to set the standards this time.

"OK, so since this is a new branch and this is the first time we've had a housekeeper, you're setting the standard. Whatever meals, laundry, and procedures you set in place will probably be followed by the new housekeeper. Also, we'd like you to sit in on the housekeeper interviews."

I frown. "Isn't that Ella's responsibility?" I don't want to overstep.

Lester nods. "She'll be here in three weeks, when the interviews conclude, to meet your top three picks. Again, go ahead and set the base standard and you and Ella can work with the new housekeeper to help her acclimate to the role."

I nod. "How many candidates do you have?"

Tank chuckles. "15."

I know my eyes are bugging out. "15?" Rafe and I are astonished.

Tank nods. "Three couples eager to take on the housekeeping/maintenance duties. The rest are combos. That's why we want a RangeMan housekeeper to set the standard with the men first. If they know what the housekeepers do across the company, they'll be less willing to try to influence this one to do anything outside the contract."

In other words, if I train the men first, hopefully they won't do to some other woman what Miami did to me. Got it. I'm eager to help.

"Does that mean Maria won't return to Miami?" Rafe asks, concerned. He squeezes my hands and smiles tightly.

Les turns and shakes his head. "No. We made it clear in the posting that there was a possibility that the couple hired could end up here or in Miami. We made everyone acknowledge that when applying so the choice is still yours, Maria. You too, Rafe. If you choose to leave Miami and come here with Maria we'll back you."

I sit back and smile. Great! I'm looking forward to this.

* * *

I'm in awe of this location. It's gorgeous. Marble, glass, hardwood and tile.

It's a housekeeper's nightmare. Rafe looks just as overwhelmed.

So many shiny surfaces to keep clean! I feel sorry for this maintenance man already. The housekeeper is really going to have to pitch in here.

**SA Standard 1:** Windows and reflective surfaces in client-facing areas must be cleaned once a day. Otherwise, prospective clients will see every finger smudge and particle of dust and dirt.

The men walk me to the elevator and I'm still counting the shiny surfaces. Once inside, I turn to Tank and Lester.

"You need to up the housekeeper's pay for this location."

Tank blinks. "Why?"

"It's a housekeeper's nightmare. Shiny surfaces everywhere that will have to be cleaned, polished, wiped, mopped, and swept every day. And that was just the lobby. I shudder to think what I'll see the moment I start examining each floor. Is it true about Texas dust storms?"

Both men are solemn and they nod. "We haven't experienced one yet, though," Lester says.

"I wash exterior windows once a week during hurricane season," Rafe says. "I mop the lobby once a day to clear away leaves and mud. Your lobby is going to look choked with dust. Did you put in a good air filter here?" They nod. "That's good, at least, but the maintenance man may need to change filters twice a month."

Their eyes are wide. We stop on the fifth floor. More glass and wood. Fingerprints everywhere! I turn to Les. "Where are we staying?" I look at Rafe, who nods.

"I get the feeling that we'll need to settle in and really look at this location top to bottom before we say anything more," Rafe says, looking around.

"Seventh floor," Tank replies. "This location has nine floors. Oh, and there's someone I'd like you to meet."

A large black woman with big brunette curls walks forward, smiling. "Hi! I'm Lula. Are you Maria?"

"Yes." Is this Tank's fiancée? She's definitely the right size for him. "Are you Stephanie's bounty hunting partner?"

"Yeah, that's me," she laughs. She turns to Rafe. "Hi."

"Hello. I'm Raphael." He smiles, kissing her hand. Her eyes widen and she grins at him.

"Smooth." Her grin is wicked. "You and I may get along after all."

"Or Rafe could go back to Miami," Tank mutters. Rafe and I look at him, but he's back in 'stone statue' mode. We look at each other and I giggle. Les is smirking.

Lula pops him. "Go on. I know y'all have super-secret RangeMan stuff to do. I'll take 'em to their apartments and get 'em settled in." She ushers us back to the elevators, taking my bags from Tank. "They're still working on this place, so the apartments are boring as hell." She makes a face. "Everything is white. No color at all. I'm dying for Tank to tell me I can shop for accessories for those apartments. I need something to do."

I like Lula. She's up front. "Well, maybe we can go shopping. Rafe and I will need to get familiar with the area and we can decorate the apartments while I'm here."

Lula looks at me and grins. "You and me will get along just fine, Ms. Maria."

* * *

Lula and I become fast friends. She's a good person, bold, upfront and loud. I'm the exact opposite but I like her attitude. She and I scope out the kitchen prep area and I make notes on nice amenities for the apartments. I send a survey out to the San Antonio RangeMen about their favorite meals and food preferences. Bobby and I set up time to go over health and fitness when he gets back from the Jersey Shore. While Rafe takes one truck and starts scouting professional supply companies, Lula and I take another truck and investigate grocery stores and local ranches.

"So what you think you'll need for Texas, Ms. Maria?" We're headed to the local Sam's Club to investigate.

"Well, these men love rice and beans, so I see us buying 25 pound bags of both. I'm thinking we need to get two or three refrigerators retrofitted into the kitchen. I told Rafe to work on getting some serious UV blocking window tint in the kitchen."

We spend the week making professional contacts, contacting kitchen supply places to get professional refrigerators and cooking supplies. We return to the building every day with pots, pans, baking sheets, mixing bowls–everything a housekeeper could ever need. We start stacking essential pantry items and making lists of other things we need.

This is when I realized I might need to take on a little of Lula's attitude. The moment I stepped onto 5, I was confronted by Miami RangeMen. Benjy, Teddy, Russ, and Mario G. Most of the time they weren't bad, but I now recognize disrespect when I get it.

"Maria!" Mario G comes over and hugs me. "I'm happy to see you. How are you?"

Surprised. "I'm fine, Mario. How are you?"

"Missing you and Miami like crazy." He grins. "Never realized how good we had it until you weren't around."

"Got that right," Benjy says, elbowing in to hug me. He's echoed by Teddy and Russ. "We hear Miami's been missing you too," he grins.

"Yes, they have. I've been moving around the company."

"Well, we're thrilled to see you. Are you going to set up a housekeeper's committee?" Teddy asks. "If so, I want to be on it."

"Are you staying out here?"

He shakes his head. "Nope, but I'd like to serve on it out here so when I go home maybe I can join it in Miami." He smiles. "I'm ready to help."

Hmm …dilemma. I don't want any of the Miami men on the committee, but I want to see how the attitudes have changed. "OK, Teddy. You can join the committee." I look at the others. "Just Teddy. The rest of the committee needs to be made of San Antonio RangeMen."

The men groan but nod.

I have my first meeting with the San Antonio men on Thursday. Tank and Les sit in on the meeting, but Teddy, Ches Deuce, Arne, Slick, Rodrigo, and Gonzo make up the committee. I smile and motion for everyone to sit. I pull out the Trenton housekeeper's standards and walk through them. I decided to use these since Tank would be familiar with them, and I see him nod once in my direction. Ches Deuce takes the lead in ensuring the men understand that whatever the housekeeper asks for needs to be obeyed or fulfilled immediately.

I'm surprised to see Teddy nod.

"You men don't understand, but right now, Miami is going through hell. Maria is our housekeeper and we didn't appreciate her like we should have. At the moment, we're being told she's transferring here. I don't want you guys to be in the same position Miami is in. Right now, the men are desperate to show her they've changed."

He sips his water while Les and Tank watch him closely.

"Treat the housekeeper right from the beginning and you won't have our hell." He looks directly at me. "It's like being in the middle of a bad divorce and watching your wife being courted by a new man. Right now, Miami is desperate to get our Maria back. The power of the housekeeper is no longer in dispute."

* * *

San Antonio is a wonderful location! The men are excited about the possibility of having a housekeeper, so doing the grocery run was a breeze. Amazingly, my Miami boys are the ones leading the brigade and keeping everyone in line. I'm allowed to shop in peace and take as long as I need. It's like being at every other location.

Lula comes along to do the grocery run and she's impressed. "Damn, this is a job!" she says, laughing. I have half of the grocery list and she has the other half. I called ahead and asked for the Sam's Club to pull the items I faxed in advance, so we just had to pick up the things I thought of at the last minute. We also picked up the items my prep area will need in order for me to function. The men installed my printer and computer, phone lines, and basic office supplies, but I pick out other nice things for the housekeeper to have.

We haul our bounty back to the building and we're met by nearly every off-duty man. I stare but Lula snorts.

"Humph. Good. They got sense." She turns to me. "OK, Ms. Maria, I don't know what your plan is, but I'm thinking you wanna take point in your pantry. I'll direct what's going on down here."

I love Lula! She's so sweet and desperate for something to do. "Excellent idea!" We hop out of the car and I walk inside.

Over the next two hours, I direct the men on how I want the pantry and refrigerators set up. Lula takes over setting up my prep area and getting that organized and joins the men in helping me organize the pantry. At the end of the day, I'm exhausted and uninterested in cooking.

"I say we get a bucket and call it a night," Lula says, fanning herself.

"I agree."

Tank does the dinner run and Texas leadership dines on fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy and biscuits for dinner.

The men are told that food service will begin the next day.

* * *

**Armando's POV**

My orders from Ella were clear: You're on your own.

OK. I have a wife. I won't suffer like the rest. Diego and I are sitting pretty right now. Mariela brings my lunch every day and she knows how to cook healthy meals. Diego asked her if she would mind making extra for him. He was willing to compensate her but she declined. He offered to babysit the girls and she accepted that.

Diego's no fool. He knows to respect my wife. She doesn't have to feed him.

The rest of the men are looking confused. Mario asks me if the branch is getting another housekeeper. I shake my head and wait.

"OK." He bites his lip and thinks about it. "Then what should we do? Are we clear to contact Ella for directions?" My eyebrow shoots up and I motion for him to take the phone. He leaves and returns with Deuce. They close the door and dial Ella.

"Mrs. Guzman?"

"Yes?"

"This is Mario Ruiz at RangeMan Miami. How are you?"

"I'm fine. How may I help you?"

"Well," Mario looks at me for guidance. I have my blank face in place. "Mando has informed us that we will be without a housekeeper for the next month. I was wondering if you had any advice for us."

Silence on the other end. I'm sure they've shocked Ella.

"What do you men need?"

"Food." They look at each other. "Umm …you know, I'm still not sure about everything Maria did. We know she cooked. We know she and Rafe cleaned. We're unclear after that."

"Well, perhaps you should ask Armando to get the housekeeper's binder and look for Maria's list of duties. Write them out and organize the men to fend for themselves."

"OK."

"In the meantime, perhaps you men should call around the company and find out what standard procedure is when the housekeeper is unavailable."

"OK. Thank you, Mrs. Guzman."

"You're welcome." _**Click**_.

I sit back and smile.

This is going to be interesting.

* * *

Mario calls a meeting of the housekeeping committee. I attend with the list of Maria's duties and, as he explains the situation, I project them on a screen. The men are pale.

"We're responsible for all that?" Braulio asks, gaping at the screen.

"No. Maria's responsible for all that," Nacho replies coldly. "Mando, hire someone for the month."

Everyone stares at him. I'm sitting back with a small smile on my face.

"Fine," Deuce says. "Let's say Mando hires someone for the month. Who's paying?"

"It can come out of the branch budget."

"Says who?" Rico replies. "Our housekeeper has been poached by leadership and we've been told we aren't getting a replacement. No way they agree to that."

The men are silent. I decide to twist the knife.

"The CO is contemplating new procedures for new hires so, with the exception of NYC and Atlanta, we're in a hiring freeze." The men look at me, stunned. "Until she decides otherwise, I can't hire anyway."

"Is that why you're sitting on three bodyguard candidates?" Nacho asks angrily.

"Tony didn't tell you?" I respond with a smile. Asshole.

"We checked around the company," Deuce says. "SOPs in other branches are clear. When the housekeeper and/or maintenance man leaves, the men are on their own. In every other branch, the in-house medic works closest with the housekeeper and takes point on her duties and the man in charge of the building takes charge of maintenance." Deuce looks at his notes. "Max works closest with Ms. Rose, so he and Chase share the duties in Atlanta and Nash organizes the maintenance. Bobby used to organize the food in Trenton and Lester was in charge of organizing the maintenance. Vince and Zero have taken on working with Ella and Binkie is in charge of the building. Same in Boston and NYC."

The men are quiet.

"Other thing we learned is that the in-house medic is always part of this committee, so Nacho, we'd like you to drop in favor of Jackson."

Now this is a bombshell. If Nacho drops, Antonio won't have anyone on this committee that's in his little gang. I'm curious to see how this will work out.

"No."

Deuce snorts. "OK, perhaps we didn't phrase that correctly. Nacho, thank you for your time and commitment, but we're requiring your spot be filled by Jackson."

Nacho clenches his jaw and looks around. No one else can drop. Mario and Deuce took this responsibility jointly, so they're permanent. Rico is in charge of the building. I'm the XO. The only other person is Braulio and he was handpicked for this. Braulio is the weak link.

"Braulio can drop."

"Braulio was never rude to any housekeeper. He stays. You go," Mario says coldly.

B looks nervous. He knows that Antonio's group will immediately begin harassing him. Jackson shows up and Nacho finally stands. He shoots a look at Braulio but I suppose that Braulio, like me, has found his balls.

"Fuck you." Everyone's eyebrows shoot up. "Tell your boys I'm not reporting back. They want info about this committee, talk to the head. I'm not your mouthpiece either. You got a grievance? Follow SOPs."

Nacho stalks out and everyone looks at Braulio, who blushes. "I've had enough of their shit too. Business stays in committee. I won't be the weak link."

Mario and Deuce smile at him. "Located your balls?"

Braulio snorts. "More like, my momma ripped them bitches off when I told her about this. I thought it was funny at first. She didn't." His jaw clenches. "She asked me how I'd like it if the rich families she worked for in Cocoanut Grove treated her the way we treat Maria." He looks ashamed and we all nod.

"I know," I tell him quietly. Every man looks at me and I give a wry smile. "Oh yeah, like you guys haven't said stuff about my balls being owned by my Momma and Tía." They laugh. "Well, they didn't see the problem, but my wife did. Lucia did. My grandmother did." I lean forward. "So let's divide up the work and put the men on a schedule. Let's make them appreciate Maria and Rafe."

* * *

**Week Two**

**Diego's POV**

Mando's packing for his trip to the beach, so I'm taking point in the office. We've been through this, so it's no biggie. Thomas and I are ready.

Week one without a housekeeper was interesting. We've learned that the biggest sexists in the office, with the exception of Juan, can't cook worth shit. No surprise there, really. Juan does a good job with breakfast stuff and he's taken point on those egg nests things he learned from Lucia. He's also taken point on shopping and, now that it's his duty, he gets pissed when his own boys don't show up to help shop. He's been throwing evil looks at Nacho and Patrice all week. On the other hand, he got on the phone, apologized to each housekeeper and asked for breakfast recipes. We were grateful; until he did, we had cereal and yogurt every morning.

We've learned that Braulio is a beast with a grill and Rico and Julio can steam seafood and veggies, but no man could bake.

Until I showed out. I can bake. Yeast and I are friends.

The men are stunned. I turn out perfect loaves of bread, Cuban, French, Italian, hearty wheat bread, dinner rolls, corn and flour tortillas, everything. I bake sweet potato empanadas and, as Juan scrambles eggs and chops up turkey bacon, I wrap it in empanada dough and we made breakfast sandwiches.

I make pitas to show off.

"Where did you learn this?" Juan asks, working his way through a sandwich.

"Pop's a baker. I've been baking since I was old enough to understand how to stir ingredients."

He nods. "Nice." He smirks. "Your Pop cooks?"

I stare at him before answering. "My Pop bakes. My mom cooks. My folks came to this country in debt to coyotes. They saved every penny. We didn't buy shit we could make." Juan slides his blank face into place and nods. I look around and the room has filled with RangeMen who look solemn. "Most of you men don't know what poverty means. I do. My family immigrated here from Guerrero. Poor would have been several steps up. We worked hard to get what we have."

Braulio snorts and bites into an empanada. "Don't assume that shit so fast. I'm half Haitian, half Dominican." The men stare. Basic Caribbean primer: Haitians and Dominicans **hate** each other. His conception is a fucking miracle. "Exactly. We lived on the Haitian side of the border. I would have welcomed poverty." He clenches his jaw. "It's why I hate a dinner of rice and beans, and don't get me started on yucca. As a kid, I had some combination of that every night for 14 months at one point."

The break room is filling up with men who are quietly eating and staring at me and Braulio. Braulio stands and looks around the room. He swallows hard. "Some of us have gotten the point. This shit isn't about meals, or laundry, or taking orders. It's about simple respect. It's about consideration. It's about appreciation." His nostrils flare and everyone is looking at their feet. The gang of five has shown up and is staring at him.

"I'd bust your asses open if you guys treated my mother like we've treated Maria. Now that she's been gone for so long, I'm embarrassed to admit that we ever gave her a moment of grief. This woman arrived while she was still mourning her husband. She was prepared to cook and clean and take care of us and we ran over her.

I look now at the shit we did and I'm ashamed. I'd never treat my mother like that and I wouldn't want her treated like that. If Maria were anything like my mom, she'd have quit, filed an EEOC complaint on us, and RangeMan would have been sued for sexual harassment. This place was the definition of 'hostile work environment'. It still is."

The men look at him in shock, but Braulio is staring at the gang of five.

"That's why I joined the committee. If Maria is allowed to return, I will be the first to tell her I won't stand for her to be disrespected as she was. My simple rule for Maria now is this: Is this behavior something I'd welcome toward my mom? If not, commence thrashings. That's how I'm going to approach Maria from now on. She wants something? She gets it. She needs help? She just needs to tell me."

Braulio places his dishes in the dishwasher. The men are nodding. He straightens up and looks around at them.

"Maria's wedding anniversary is in a week. Seems to me we should get her something to commemorate the husband she still mourns. A love that deep should be celebrated. If you have ideas, email me."

Braulio leaves. I give him a mental standing ovation.

* * *

On the other hand, the maintenance is slipping. I've had to step in to reinforce standards. I laughed my ass off the first time Patrice and Nacho complained about having to wash windows.

"There's no fucking point, Diego! It's gonna rain again at 2 p.m., so why are we washing windows at 7 a.m.?"

"Because it has to be done. That's what Rafe did."

"Well it makes no sense. We need to change procedure," Nacho grouses. I smile coldly.

"And whose job is it? Whose decision to decide when the windows need to be washed?"

They stare at me. Since it's Rafe's job, they can't pull the 'silly woman didn't know what she was doing' card. Rafe's a man. Of course he didn't need someone to check behind him.

"If those windows aren't spotless at noon, you two can meet me on the mats at 1700."

I walk off. Patrice and Nacho have been on the mats damn near every day since Mando left.

Come on, guys. Give me a reason to fire your ass. I can't wait for Rico to come back from bed rest. Antonio's little group is breaking up. Juan's out. All it took was **him** not getting the respect and doing the shopping trips with only Mario and Deuce helping him for him to understand what Maria was going through. Braulio's finally chosen his side of the fence and he's serious about it. He's been collecting money and ideas for a gift to send to San Antonio. Mario and Deuce have accepted him in their clique due to his actions. Antonio, Patrice, Pedro, Rico and Nacho are the only ones left.

* * *

I decide to point out the stupidity of their attitudes and I ask Braulio to ask his mom if she'll help.

Mr. and Mrs. Crevecouer immigrated to this country, worked hard, and eventually started a cleaning service. She services high-end homes, but until the business got off the ground and was profitable, everyone in the family worked like crazy to make it a success. They were thrilled when B started working here, because he gave his mom half of his salary when they were in a tight pinch. They made it through and Mrs. C is considered a huge success in Little Haiti.

B is definitely a momma's boy and he was thrilled to show his mom's expertise. Mrs. Crevecouer arrives at 6 a.m.

"Mrs. Crevecouer," I smile and kiss her hand, "thank you for agreeing."

"Well, my son has told me about what's been going on here," she replies, smiling. God, I love her accent. You can't help but smile. "I'm glad to help. I brought de white gloves."

Perfect!

She begins the inspection in the lobby and she tsks the entire time. "Humph. You men bedda be glad you can shoot de guns. You'd never work for me. Look at de mud! You cannot mop? You just pushed de mud around! Did you 'member to sweep de floors before you mopped?"

Mario and Deuce are making notes. Miami Leadership is following and paying close attention.

She pulls on the white gloves, turns around so we can see that they're spotless, and starts running fingers along the floors. "Dese baseboards need dusting and a wet sponge wipe. Same with de chair rail." She shakes her head. "If you have trim, you have to keep it clean. Dis Miami. Gotta clean at least once a month. Mebbe more."

I nod. I remember watching Rafe moving along the floor in knee pads, but I never knew what he was up to.

"And you boys been opening doors with yo' feet!" She turns and pops B, who grins. "See all de black marks? That's yo' boots! Either paint that or put in a door kick to hide it."

I turn and look at the rest of the men. They're moving in close, taking pictures, making notes and staring at each other in shock. This is the pattern for the entire morning. By the time we finish on the 7th floor, Mrs. Crevecouer has scoured the building and pointed out each speck of dirt.

We meet in the conference room and Mrs. C gives us a report.

"You men aren't grateful for your help," she says, tsking and shaking her head. "If I had dis building as an account, I'd put at least four people on it, three times a week, four hours each time. That's 48 man hours a week. You have two people working 40+ hour weeks trying to keep it clean for you, but de lady is also feeding you, keeping up with the important things in your life, and helping your maintenance man. If either of dem is paid anywhere under $100K, then you men are getting dem for a steal."

The men are looking at each other quietly. I hide a smile. Point made.

"They also have fully furnished live-in apartments, free health care, and other perks to the job," Pedro says coolly. "Those are non-taxable benefits that bring their effective salary up to $100K."

Mrs. C stares at him coldly. "That just means that dere on site to be at your beck and call 24 hours a day. When was the last time you told Maria and Rafe you 'preciate dere hard work? Give her a birthday card? Asked her 'bout her family? Same with Rafe."

She looks around the room. "I run a cleaning service. I get tired of people coming to my work thinking they can do my job with no skills. Cleaning is hard work, as you boys are learning." She smirks. "I fire as many people as I hire because I don't accept excuses and shortcuts. Do it right the first time. If cleaning was as easy as people think then dis wouldn't be a major business."

She pulls a piece of paper and hands it to me. I look and nearly choke. Mrs. C would charge RangeMan Miami nearly $12K a month for her services. I look up and she nods. "I give you a cut rate because B works here. Otherwise, add another $2000."

I sit. _Shit!_ That's nearly Maria and Rafe's combined salaries just to clean. The men are looking at me, waiting for me to say something, but I know I'm pale. I pass the sheet to Mario.

"Shit!" he yells in shock. Mrs. C. laughs and he looks up. "Seriously?" She nods smugly. Mario hands the paper to Deuce, who curses in Portuguese, turns to the men and runs his hair through his hands. "OK. So now we know. Mrs. C would charge us nearly $12K a month for this building."

"She's padding that," Antonio says, shocked.

He doesn't even see B's fist headed in his direction.

* * *

**Maria's POV**

I'm thinking seriously about staying in Texas. The men are thrilled to have a housekeeper. They actually meet with me every morning to determine what else needs to be done. The local boys contact suppliers they know in the area and I'm negotiating beef, pork, lamb, and chicken contracts in days. They contact wholesalers so I can get items at wholesale prices. They hip me to foodie spots I might want to try.

Rafe is also thinking of staying. The janitorial suppliers were set the first week and he spent his time setting standards on building maintenance. The men now see the difference in the building. Rafe also set the standards on landscaping around the building. Tank wasn't a huge fan of installing landscaping until Rafe got started. Once Lula finished gushing about the pretty flowerbeds, Tank thanked him for the work and asked him to write it up. Low maintenance plants that wouldn't obstruct views were fine by him.

Bobby's back and we meet with each RangeMan one on one about his health and weight. The transfer RangeMen are just fine because they know the standards, but the new ones have occasional issues. I create meal and diet plans for each one. Lula catches me at the end and, hesitantly, asks for a meeting with me and Bobby. We're stunned.

"Is everything OK, Lula?" Bobby says, gently guiding her into the room.

"Yeah." She fiddles with her shirt for a few minutes before blurting out, "I hate the wedding dresses for big bountiful women like me. I ain't trying to hit Tyra Bank's size, but I wanna be able to buy what I want."

"What do you want?" I ask gently. I know that feeling. I didn't appreciate how beautiful I looked in my wedding dress until I saw the pictures months later. Bobby has his blank face in place, so I kick his shin. He looks at me, astonished. I glare. No blank faces!

Lula passes me her wedding planning album and I look. Each dress would look . . . questionable on Lula. I look at Lula and nod.

"OK. I see you in these, but . . . "I look at Bobby, who has a faint smile on his face, "here's the deal: You'll need to flatten your tummy for these. I think we can Spanx everything else and make you look smooth and sexy, but you need a flatter tummy. Also, I think you'd look better in something with a mermaid hem."

I turn to my computer and find pictures of what I'm thinking. "The advantage of a mermaid silhouette is the versatility. You're all sexy curves and soft places for a man to love," I wink and Lula laughs. Bobby stares at the door longingly. "Time to celebrate that."

"Yeah, Tank _loves_ the soft places," she laughs.

Bobby stands. "And I think that just made me surplus to the discussion." I yank him back into the seat and I get another astonished look.

"We need you here. Lula will need to eat different things to get the results she wants, but we need to craft her an exercise plan that will get her where she wants to be." I grin at him. "Besides, aren't you a groomsman?"

Bobby nods, laughing. "True."

"OK then. Let's get started."


	29. Cold Water

**A/N: I feel horrid saying this but, my client site is driving me insane. I know I won't really get a chance to respond to your wonderful (and often thought provoking) reviews until I'm home again. So please let me know if you don't require a response to your reviews. I may choose to answer some anyway, but this past month has been insane and I've chosen to spend that time writing chapters (and one shots and side stories (grin).)**

**Thankfully, I'll be at home for a month starting in September. Just in time to see your reactions to XO week . . . among other things! :D**

**veiland**

* * *

**Chapter 61.5 Cold Water**

**Tank's POV—Friday**

My meeting with my lawyer was routine. I changed the allocations in my will, added my nephews to the beneficiaries list, and added Lula as my primary heir.

The addition of Lula caused my lawyer a problem.

"Mr. LaPierre, have you discussed a pre-nuptial agreement with your intended bride?"

I raise an eyebrow. "My fiancée is not like that."

Queue a million divorced men rolling their eyes. I smile mentally. I can see Ranger raising an eyebrow now.

James Rogers sighs and hands me a bottle of water. "If I had a dime for every time I've heard that, I'd be a rich man." He smirks. "Then again, since I end up litigating the divorce proceedings, I am a rich man."

I chuckle at that. James sits and leans in close to me.

"Tank, let's put aside everything else and talk man to man, not client to lawyer. I've known you for over a decade, admire you and have been thrilled and pleased to work with you. I'm happy for you because I know that whoever this woman is, she's quality. You only pick the best. I'm not even going to suggest that she's not completely worth it.

But Tank, you're a multimillionaire. You have significant money, property, and investments to protect." He leans back. "Have you considered the fact that, at your marriage, your wife has a financial interest in RangeMan? You might as well call her a partner. Louisiana is a community property state. So is Texas."

Holy Shit! I love Lula but she and the business are separate.

James nods. "Any increase in the value of your partnership stake from the time you marry until, god forbid, your divorce, becomes a factor in the divorce proceedings. It's considered community property. In the event of a divorce, she could argue she's entitled to half of the value of your partnership. You might be forced to liquidate assets just to keep her from making a play for your partnership.

This is something that **all** the RangeMan partners need to consider. You need to shield the company from your personal lives. It may be time to consider switching the company legal structure from an LLC to an S or C corporation. You guys are big enough and operating in multiple states. Plus, Texas is about to eat you alive with those 'franchise fees'."

I sit back and think about this. I'm sending Ranger a message that I may move forward on this ASAP.

"For the time being, we can add Tallulah to your will, but please. Sit down with your fiancée and talk about this. Openly, honestly, get the money discussion out of the way now. Make sure she understands who and what she's marrying. And please try to get her to sign a prenup. I prefer to argue over prenups rather than settlements."

I nod and think about it. Lula and I have a lot to talk about. I wince.

Why didn't anyone tell me that getting married was going to require so much damn **talking**?

* * *

I head back to RangeMan the next day and sit in my office. The building is coming along and my apartment looks nice. I can't believe how well that color scheme works upstairs. Lula's having fun buying little things for the apartment and I'm enjoying watching her have fun. Now that I've won the war over the walls and Lula sees how it will look, she's accepting it more. I can see I'm going to have to dodge a million colorful pillows, rugs, and other assorted shit, but she's happy and that makes me happy.

The branch is also coming along nicely. We have more bonds enforcement work than we can handle and we're starting to pick up more contracts for monitoring and armed guards. The men we retained from the businesses we purchased know the old contracts and our name is getting out there. People like dealing with us so the branch is growing much faster than I anticipated.

We made Spanish language skills a necessity and each man gets tested by Chester Deuce and Les when he's hired. We can see that Ches is dying for some additional responsibility, which is why Bobby wanted to bring him with us. Plus, he's originally from Austin, so this is home for him. He's thrilled to be in Texas. Bobby thinks he might be the right man to be the liaison.

We'll see. So far, I'm impressed. Diego as a possible XO and Ches as a liaison. Shit, normally I wouldn't even have my mind on leadership roles in the company at this point, but . . . how in the hell do I keep my Little Girl in the company? She's making shit happen she doesn't even realize.

I've been sitting here staring at my computer screen for thirty minutes. I can't get my discussion with Rogers out of my head. Les pokes his head in.

"Yo."

"Yo."

He walks in and closes the door. "Everything OK?"

I sit back. I'm not sure how to handle that. "Rogers suggested I ask Lula for a prenup."

Les shrugs. "Standard lawyer worry."

"Our current LLC agreement doesn't make provisions for spouses. I checked the law. The day I marry Lula, any increase in my partnership becomes community property. She becomes an 'unofficial' partner in RangeMan."

Les's eyebrow hits his hairline. He reaches for a legal pad. "So, in this prenup, what are you asking for, besides her signing away all rights to the company?" He sits back and his eyes widen. "Shit! Ranger's gonna have to do the same."

I nod. I'd already thought about that.

"Fuck," Les mutters. "Any more surprises?"

I grunt. I lean back and shake my head. "He also suggested we consider changing the company type from an LLC to an S or a C."

Les leans back in his chair. Bobby passes by and I wave to get his attention. He sticks his head in.

"Sup?"

I wave at the chair. Bobby sits and Les catches him up. Bobby is pale.

"Tank, I like Lula, but . . . "

I nod. "I know. You don't have to say it."

Bobby smiles. "Time to get the company lawyers here because it sounds like it's time to have a company shareholders meeting. We're missing Ranger and we'll need his vote." He leans back in his chair. "Plus, I'd like to consider offering junior partnerships to some of our more worthy employees."

Les and I look at him. "Like who?"

Bobby grins. "Well, Hector for a start. He's the fifth member of our personal brotherhood and the only one who isn't a partner. I've been tossing that around in my head for a while."

I nod. "Solid."

"Agreed," Les says.

"I was also thinking about Danny and Hal, but I recognize that if we extend them a partnership, Mark will completely lose his nut." We snicker and nod. "The problem is, after elevation to XO, there's nothing left. You're an XO forever."

"And ever, amen," Les and I intone solemnly then snicker. We all laugh about that for a moment before sobering. It's a lot to think about.

"I've been looking at the different corporate setups. We chose to be an LLC to keep the affairs of the company secret and because the legal requirements were minimal. However, we get killed in taxes because we're taxed on our share of the entire net income of RangeMan." Les and Bobby nod, rolling their eyes. "Plus, we're knocking up against the IRS LLC requirements. It's clear RangeMan will not be a limited duration company. Time to start looking at a different legal framework."

Les sighs. "Shit! All that will require filing paperwork with the IRS. Our veil will be gone."

"True," Bobby says, "but you'll recall, I said this at the very beginning. It was going to happen. We were going to be big and successful and we knew this day was coming. Time to start looking at S or C status."

I nod. "I've been doing the research. The company being based in Florida will help, but we need to see if having branches in Boston, Trenton, and NYC is going to increase the tax burden. If we go S, Massachusetts, New York, and New Jersey all tax S-corporations in addition to taxing the shareholders. I think Georgia does too. Double taxation, gentlemen."

Les and Bobby groan. They're NY and Georgia residents, legally.

"It's better than going C. If we go C, we're guaranteed double taxation **and** we get taxed at the federal, state, and local levels. Not to mention the company getting taxed when it makes a profit, then us getting taxed when we take our distribution. The workaround is to pay ourselves a 'reasonable' salary, which can be counted as a business expense, but the IRS takes a close look at 'reasonable' salaries. The other advantage is we're taxed at corporate rates, which are usually lower but . . . the current political climate is to raise taxes on corporations. Right now, Florida is 5% or 5.5%. We're in the highest tax bracket, so we're screwed unless Ryan has some clever way of reducing our taxable income." I reach for a cold compress and lean my head back. I hear snickers and I flip them both off. I've been reading up on this stuff until my eyes started crossing.

"Shit! I'm starting to feel the Republicans' aversion to taxes. Who **doesn't** have their fingers in our wallets?" Les groans. Bobby snorts and we all laugh.

"Well, we've already made one decision." They look at me. "If we intend to extend a partnership to Hector, then we'll be outside the LLC agreement. That's a 'life prolonging' activity. So, we have to switch to a corporate business structure."

The guys hang their heads and laugh. "OK," Bobby says, "time to do the research. Call the lawyers and the accountants. Time to make some decisions."

* * *

I have a massive headache and I'm out of cold compresses. I spent the rest of the day filing paperwork for this branch, talking with the lawyers and accountants, and reading up on Cs, Ss, Qsubs–my brain is ringing. This has nothing to do with men or supplies. This is the shit Ranger gets off on. I wonder how much Steph knows about this stuff.

I walk into the house and thank God for Lula. She's standing there in a pink teddy, no panties, and three condoms in her hand.

"You catch me and you can use 'em."

I have her before she's out of the living room. My poor baby. Why she ever thought she could outrun me I'll never know.

I carry her back into the living room, strip my t-shirt and slide that teddy from her body. I like it. I think we'll hold on to that one for a little while. I'm licking her neck, sliding my fingers toward the promised land when–

"_**MEOOWWWWW**__."_

Thanks, Salem. You fucking up the mood. Lula goes stiff. I look back and all the cats are watching. Personally, I find that hilarious. They wanna watch Big Daddy work.

"No animal voyeurism. Bad enough I'm wondering if I got cat hair on my back now."

I chuckle and I can feel Lula giggling under me. I stand her up and look at her. There's a cat hair on her butt but if I pluck it off, she'll go put on the jammies and the sergeant will remain in the brig all night. I grin, pick her up and take her to the shower. I hate shower sex (Lula's a little too active and I hate losing balance) but I'll chance it tonight. The headache's already gone.

* * *

"Not that I wasn't thrilled with the hello, but what brought that on?"

We're sitting in bed, eating delivery Chinese. I can't believe she talked me into this, but it's good. I got the (semi) healthy steamed stuff and Lula is working through lo mein noodles and sesame chicken.

"Les called. Said you had a stressful day. Since he ain't ever called me before with that kinda information, I figured it musta been bad." She grins and wipes my mouth. "Then I realized the sergeant was in the brig for a while since I was in Louisiana."

I grunt. "And he definitely missed you." I spear a chunk of sesame chicken, which makes Lula squeal and fuss about food stealing.

"Ain't nothing on your plate I want to steal!"

I grin and finish my Chinese. I sit back and try to figure out how to bring up our finances with her.

"We need to talk, Lula Bear."

"The most hated words in any relationship. Baby, we need to talk," Lula moans. "All right. What do we need to talk about?"

"Money."

Her eyes widen. "I haven't spent that much. I still got my own bills to pay back home."

I sign. "Not your money, baby. Mine."

Lula clenches her jaw. "So who thinks I'm a gold digger now, huh? Wilma? Thelma? Antoine?"

I lean back and pull Lula over. She resists until she realizes that I'm stronger than her and I'll get my way. I pull her into my lap and she rests her head against my chest. I rest my head against the pillows and close my eyes. "No, it wasn't a negative conversation, baby. It was a realistic one. I got assets and property and a partnership in a thriving company. My lawyer pointed out that I need a prenup." I need a cold compress. I feel that headache starting again.

Lula goes absolutely still. "So your lawyer thinks I'm a leech?"

"No. He thinks I'm a man of property who needs to ensure that my assets are cared for."

Silence reigns for a few minutes before I open my eyes to find Lula looking at me, furious. "Lula Bear—"

"Shut it, Tank. I don't want to talk about it. You think I'm a fucking leech too." She eyes me. "And put some pants on. I'm mad and I don't want to think about fucking you right now."

I've screwed up this conversation somewhere. I sigh, walk back into the living room, find my sweats and return to the bedroom. She exits fully dressed and I realize she's about to do a runner.

"Lula?"

"Fuck you!" She's headed for the door and I run after her. I catch her at the front door.

"Tank, if you want to keep your feet, you'll move." The stiletto is backing the warning.

"Lula, let me explain—" Pressure from the stiletto increases and I move back. Lula's out of the door in seconds and I'm naked. I can't follow her. I pull on my sweatpants and slip my feet into flip flops, but I hear the truck starting. By the time I make it to the parking lot, I'm looking at the tail lights.

She's gone.

* * *

**Lula's POV**

**Bastard! **I can't think of anything Tank's ever said to me that hurt more than that.

'_I'm a man of property who needs to ensure that my assets are cared for.'_

Fuck him! I got assets! My Firebird is definitely worth some money. And my clothes and shoes. I'm really sick of everybody thinking I'm a leech! I don't want Tank's money! I just want him. I love **him**, not his damn wallet! I hit I-10E, headed for Carencro when I realize that I don't wanna drive for six hours at night. I decide to stop in Houston. I pull over, look in my purse and realize I still have Tank's Black Amex.

No. I can pay for my own hotel room.

I pull back onto the highway and head for Houston. Before I'm on the road good, I see a black SUV behind me. It flashes its lights and I ignore it. The lights flash again and my phone rings.

"Fuck you."

"I think Tank would have a problem with that."

"Bobby?"

"Hey, Lula. Headed somewhere?"

"He call you?" I ask, sniffling.

"I recognized the truck. Wondered what you guys were doing out so late."

"He pissed me off."

Bobby laughs. "Welcome to marriage. Pull over. Lemme talk to you."

I pull onto the shoulder. Bobby walks over and other RangeMan takes his place as driver. Once Bobby's in the car, he pulls off.

"He coming back for you?"

"Nope."

"How you getting back?" Bobby raises an eyebrow. I sigh and clench my jaw. "How did you really find me?"

"I didn't lie. I saw the truck. We're just coming back from a takedown and saw you were driving. I wondered where you were headed."

I look at Bobby but I can't tell if he's lying. I sniff and Bobby hands me a handkerchief. He pulls the car keys and hops out. The driver's door opens and Bobby unhooks my seat belt and pulls me out. We stand there, on the side of the road, with me crying and Bobby patting my back until I calm down.

"Feel better?"

I nod.

"OK, let's go get some ice cream and talk."

* * *

Twenty minutes later we're sitting in the truck at a Sonic Drive–In. I'm working through a banana split and Bobby's sipping his third slushie.

"I mean, I had it up to **here** with people thinking I want Tank for his money! I don't want his money. His money ranks low for me. I love the man for his heart, his strength, for the fact that he believes in me. I give more importance to his dick than his wallet."

Bobby chokes on his slushie and laughs. He's laughing and I'm just finishing the banana split.

"First, never refer to another man's dick in a conversation. Complete mood killer."

"Did we have a mood going?" I grin, looking at Bobby.

He's red and laughing. "Nope and if we did, it's dead now."

I look at him and we both laugh. I let the window down and order two more slushies while Bobby finishes his.

"OK, so will you listen to me without getting upset?" I nod. "Alright. I am riding Tank's ass tomorrow because that really was a shitty way to open the discussion, but let me talk to you seriously, Lula. I got no bets on this ride, OK?"

"OK."

"Alright, here goes. First, every couple needs to have a talk about money. Simple as that. You might not have liked how he put it, but the reality is you **are** marrying a man of significant wealth. You've already been warned that his family will try to use you to get to it."

"That's true," I sigh.

Bobby nods. "Regardless, think about all the little things that happen between two people in setting up a household. Who pays rent or mortgage? Light bills? Cable? Phone? Internet? Car notes? Car insurance? Think about all the bills you're paying right now and consider how you two plan to break the bills down when you marry."

Oh shit. Bobby's got a good point.

"You still plan to finish your degree?" I nod. "Then how do you feel about Tank paying for all the household bills and your degree? He'll be doing that for what, two years? Maybe three depending on how long it takes you to finish. You're a proud, independent woman, Lula. Are you OK having a man pay for you? Then there's the company."

I look over at Bobby and he's completely serious. "I like you, Lula, but there's no way we'll be comfortable having you come in at partnership level. Sorry, but that's out of the question for any spouse. The company needs to remain completely separate from our personal lives. We're setting up the legal framework, but it also requires Ranger's vote. Until then, we need you to sign away all rights to the company."

"I don't mind doing that. I don't want RangeMan." And I mean that. Steph sounds completely off her rocker every time we talk but I can tell she likes running the company. She's havin' fun. I don't have skills to do that.

Bobby smiles and points. The waitress is at the window with the drinks. I pay and hand Bobby one. We slurp in silence for a while.

"How much is Tank worth?"

I sit back. "I dunno. Ask him."

"No, I don't need to ask him. I have a rough idea. Do you?" I shake my head. "As his wife, you need to know. If we decide to take an op overseas, you may be asked to sign paperwork in regards to his estate. Buying or selling assets and investments, deciding what to do with his cars and property, all that stuff.

If, god forbid, something should happen to him, you don't want to get hit with all that at once. Take the time now to learn about Tank's assets and how to manage them so you can manage them if you need to. As it is, the only other person in Tank's family with an understanding of his assets is his momma, and I know she doesn't know all of them."

"Are y'all planning on taking any ops overseas?"

"We haven't discussed it lately. It'll probably be top of the agenda when Ranger returns."

I sit back and sigh. "I didn't like the accusation that I was only after his money."

"Did he say that?" My shoulders slump but I shake my head. "So it sounds like he might have been parroting his lawyer, which makes some sense since we dealt with lawyers and accountants all fucking afternoon. That's why Les called you to warn you about his rough day. Another thing you need to consider, Lula." I look over and Bobby is serious. "It's an informal requirement that all RangeMan wives get self-defense and firearms training."

My eyes are wide. "Why?"

"Lula, do you understand the true purpose of the company?"

"You're a security company."

Bobby smiles and shakes his head. "Yeah, but it also serves as a front for our black ops operations." I'm stunned. "When you made the statement about Ranger always being missing when coups overseas take place . . . " Bobby trails off and looks at me knowingly. I'm sure my eyes are huge. Holy Shit! Bobby nods and grins. "Exactly. We still go as a group on occasion, which means we all have enemies. That makes loved ones targets. You need to be trained. Self-defense and weapons training, including guns and knives. A wife is a prime target for kidnapping because nothing hurts a man more than watching the woman he loves being violated or killed."

I lean back and slurp my slushie. Bobby is scaring the shit outta me.

"I got a gun."

"Are you accurate?"

Hell no. My gun is more to scare people off. People won't fuck with you when you got a big gun. I don't say nothin' and I can hear Bobby chuckle.

"Here's a basic primer on Texas law, Lula. Look at me." I look at Bobby and he's completely serious now. "That stuff you do with your gun in New Jersey, shooting at every damn thing, will get you locked up so fast here in Texas your head will spin. I'm talking 'sitting in jail until the trial begins' serious. Even pulling it is serious here. Gun rights and gun safety are no joke. Tank will ease into this subject with you, but I'm not going to. I'm telling you right now, straight up front: put the gun away until you get some training. Let us show you how to be deadly without it and then we'll train you to be deadly with it, but you **cannot** wave your gun around in this state. Texas cops will **not** overlook that."

I look at Bobby, wide-eyed, and he nods, completely serious. He's definitely not joking anymore.

"Now, New Jersey cops ignore that because they know you, but that Anton Ward thing? And the Slayers? That stuck in our minds, Lula. You tipped off a gang war and Steph ended up in the middle of it because **she** was the bounty hunter, the famous one. It didn't help that she decided to try to haul his ass in, which we got onto her about because Anton Ward should have been our file and she knew it. She used piss poor judgment because Morelli ordered her to leave it alone and she wanted to flip him the finger. Ranger gave Connie holy hell about that because she knew she should have handed that file to us, not Steph. That was the **last **time Connie ever handed over a file that should have gone to us to Steph or anyone else."

Bobby looks out the windshield, jaw clenched, nostrils flared. I swallow hard and slurp my slushie quietly.

"There were a lot of pissed men at RangeMan when the full truth of that came out because you three women used piss poor judgment all around. But that's water under the bridge now. Anyway, **you** put your best friend in harm's way waving your gun around. It took Tank a long time to get over that and Ranger? Ranger still has difficulty with it."

The tears are rolling down my face. I never . . . I never thought about it that way. It just seemed like another one of those fucked up things that happens to Steph. Hell, I spent more time on Comstock than I was comfortable with because I was trying to make sure she wasn't alone over there once she decided to haul Anton's ass in. Now he telling me I was the cause of that? How come no one told me?

Bobby turns to me and takes my hand. "We all like you, Lula. Hell, Les and I like you a lot and we know Ranger likes you. But in the back of our minds, we're always going to remember that incident. It's taken us a long time to forgive you but we'll never forget. Took us a long time to forgive Steph and Connie for their actions. It could **never** happen here, understood?" I nod and Bobby passes me a handkerchief. "I mean it. This is the only time I'm ever going to discuss this with you. You could cost us the branch with actions like that. You could cost someone their life with actions like that. Put the gun away until we start training you."

Bobby stares out the windshield and drinks his slushie. I feel like I just got verbally body slammed.

"How do you know Ranger likes me?" I ask quietly.

"Because if he didn't, he would have tried to talk Tank out of marrying you. Probably wouldn't have happened but if he felt strongly about it he would have tried."

"I thought he was overseas."

"He is. Tank told him when he checked in and instead of wasting his time trying to talk Tank out of it, he congratulated him and he meant it. He's long thought you two should get together. You're good for Tank." Bobby faces me again. "That's another thing you'll have to contend with in marrying Tank. Ranger will be an element in your marriage. That's Tank's partner and the man who understands him best next to you. You and Ranger need to come to an accord with each other because you're both important to Tank. If you two are at war, you will cause an irreparable breach in a strong partnership and our company can't survive like that."

I slump in the seat. Batman intimidates me and we gotta become friends? Damn. Is Tank worth all this? I twist my ring and sigh. Yeah, Tank's worth everything. I guess me and Ranger gotta become friends.

"Do you still want to bounty hunt?"

"Yeah! I've really missed doing that." Well, I miss it with Steph. I miss Steph. I don't miss hauling crazy skips to jail.

"Well, to do it in Texas, you'll have to get licensed and trained. If you work for RangeMan, you'll need to undergo our training. We don't take any bonds like the bonds you and Steph worked for Vinnie. We're talking major guys, who come with firepower and a no-shit attitude. We're not talking elderly skips and high teenagers."

I gulp. "What's involved?"

Bobby smiles. "All that stuff Steph's doing right now."

"No thanks. I think I'll stick to being a social worker." The exercise plan Bobby's got me on now is enough.

Bobby looks at me critically for a moment and nods. "Suits you. You talked to Chenae?"

"Yeah. I really enjoyed hearing about what they do from her. I think it's the perfect thing for me."

"I agree. Wrong for her, perfect for you."

I sit back. "The girl should have been a business major."

Bobby sits back and laughs. "I told Tank that before she started. He didn't believe me."

I sniff. "A blind man could see that."

Bobby smiles. "Everyone has a blind spot, Lula. Tank's is and will always be Chenae. You'll have to be the voice of reason when it comes to her. I gotta say, you're already making a difference in his life."

"How?"

"There's not another person on the face of this earth who could have convinced Tank to look at Antoine and not see a walking, talking pile of shit. Honestly, you taught us all a lesson." I cock my head and he smiles. "At some point, you have to reassess a man. Just like in the field, intel changes based on different actions. Antoine had changed, significantly it seems, and since Tank was stuck thinking of his brother as a piece of shit, we all held him in contempt. It was wrong of all of us. The man has been working hard for years to make up for that mistake, but Tank would never have given him the opportunity if not for you."

I smile. Antoine ain't so bad. Honestly, out of all Tank's siblings, he the one I like most. He blunt, he real, and he doesn't bullshit. He's funny and unpredictable too. Tank admitted, quietly, that at one point that weekend, he almost _liked_ his brother. He's looking forward to spending time with Antoine more often. He finds his brother 'interesting'.

I sip my slushie and smile. "You and Lester seem completely different from how y'all acted in New Jersey. Why is that?"

Bobby chuckles. "Simple. We're finally getting a chance to know you. You were a busy lady in New Jersey, always on the go. Most of the time, we only saw you when we had to respond to something about Steph." We both laugh at that. "It's like we're finally getting introduced to Lula Jackson and we like her. She's funny and loyal and she loves our brother. She needs things to do to keep her out of trouble." I flip him off and he laughs. "You're also a lot calmer than you were in New Jersey. I think it's the fact that you don't have your gun."

I glare at Bobby, who's smiling, no shame. I sit back and think about it. Honestly, I feel a little dull here. "I don't feel like me lately."

"What do you mean?"

I swallow hard. "I . . . Well . . . Steph working for y'all meant she and I didn't spend time together anymore. She busy. I had school and classes, and Connie and ML, but Steph and me were partners. Best friends. I feel like I'm missing part of me."

Bobby reaches for my hand and squeezes hard.

I feel the tears slip down my cheeks. "I want my best friend back." Bobby passes me a handkerchief (how many of these does he have?) and turns to me.

"Lula, this is going to be part of your life with Tank. Y'all had this discussion, right?" I nod. "OK, then I hate to say this, but he's right. You gotta figure out how to fill your time. You'll still see Steph, but not as much anymore. You two will still be friends, but you'll make new friends. You'll find things to do. But this is what marriage sometimes means. It means moving from Jersey to Texas, going to school full-time, getting married and settling down. Think on it. It's a lot of changes for a short amount of time. Otherwise, you're marrying a man I admire and love as my brother. I'm happy for the two of you. I'll be happier when you install a doorbell."

I smile. "Learned your lesson, huh?"

Bobby shudders. "There are some things a man doesn't want to know about his new sister. Exactly how you take care of Tank's needs I want to remain a mystery."

* * *

**A/N:** Just to be absolutely clear: Lula will not become a 'named' partner in RangeMan, but her marriage to Tank means that she has a financial interest in the company. Should she and Tank divorce (knock wood), any increase in the value of Tank's partnership from the day they marry to the day she (or he) files, becomes community property. So if, during their marriage, the value of Tank's share of RangeMan increased $100K, Lula would be entitled to $50K. A prenup is **required**!


	30. Boundaries

**Chapter 61.7 Boundaries**

**Tank's POV**

I'm watching the dot on my Escalade come back closer to the apartment. When I called Bobby and asked him to head her off, I was grateful I remembered he had a takedown in east San Antonio tonight. I can see he caught her just in time; he said he spotted her moments before I called. I got lucky there.

I hear the key in the lock and a quick conversation outside. Lula pops her head in and looks at me.

"Bobby's with me," she says quietly. I nod and they walk in. Lula takes off for the back and Bobby sits on the sofa.

He looks over at me. "I cleared the way," he whispers, "but I'm riding your ass about how you opened that shit. Tank—"

I raise a hand. I don't need him to do it. I've beat myself up for the past two hours. Bobby nods, recognizing the look on my face. We sit in silence until Lula returns in her jammies and with her hair tied up.

"Bobby, you want something to drink?"

He laughs. "Woman, we just drank how many slushies? I gotta piss, if you're offering a bathroom."

Lula laughs, tears running down her face, and directs him to the back. I grunt and bite my lip. That shit was funny. Lula looks at me cautiously and I open my arms to her. She smiles, sits next to me and snuggles up.

The cats all file over and sit in front of us, watching.

"That bothers me."

I grunt. "They're waiting for the show to begin." I get poked but she giggles.

Bobby returns and looks at the cats then us. "Boom-chika-boom-chika-boom-chika-wow wow."

I break. I can't help it, I laugh my ass off. Lula throws a book at Bobby, who dodges and catches it. The cats are still looking at us and we're laughing our asses off.

The doorbell rings and Bobby opens it. Les is standing there, looking at us in confusion.

"I missed something good, didn't I?"

Bobby ushers him back out of the door. "The cats are waiting."

Les starts laughing then sticks his head back through the door. "Boom-chika-boom-chika-boom- chika —"

**THUD**!

"Lula Bear, you gotta stop throwing my books."

* * *

I call in and inform Bobby that I'll be late. He tells me to spend the day with Lula and make sure she's OK.

The cats did not get a show. We kept that private.

Attempt one was a complete failure. Let's set up the correct conditions for attempt two.

I pull my personal accountant's last quarterly statement, showing my bank accounts, investments, real value of property and major assets. It's a massive list and at the end it shows my entire net worth. Excluding my share of RangeMan, I'm worth around $14 million. I reinvest damn near everything and my assets are doing extremely well.

"Lula," I call softly. I tip the chair back and look. She's still angry. I sigh and walk into the living room. "Lula, I know I fucked up starting this discussion, but let's talk. Please." I tug her from the sofa and sit her at the table. "Let's go through my paperwork, so you can see the extent of what you're marrying."

"It ain't mine," she grouses.

"Yes, it is. What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine."

"Then why your lawyer want you to get a prenup?"

"RangeMan, Lula. The day we marry, the value of my partnership stake is split between us. You would damn near become a partner in RangeMan. The guys love you but ain't no way."

Her eyes are big. "Yeah. Bobby said that."

"Exactly. That's why the lawyer wants us to talk about money and prenups. I realized we needed to have this talk because I know I'm marrying a proud woman. You gon' always have your own and you won't expect to be dependent on me, but we need to talk about these things. After all, we're renting an apartment now, but what about a house? You want a house? I know we stopped looking but we may change our minds. You need a new car? Your Firebird needs a lot of work done and you gotta admit, you enjoy driving the Escalade. You want to go back to school and I'm willing to pay for it. You OK with that? Sharing household bills?"

Lula's nodding now. "All those little things that, if we don't discuss 'em, I'll feel like a kept woman."

"Right." I smile. "And like I said, RangeMan is an issue. I need you to sign away any rights to that. We're already looking to change the corporate structure on the company, hence my shitty day, but until we do, the guys want that issue removed from consideration. If something should happen to me, you're taken care of in my will, but . . . "

"I didn't build RangeMan so I shouldn't be allowed to run it."

Whew. She got it. "Right."

"Steph?"

What is the fascination with Steph and Ranger? "Baby, why do you always want to know about Steph and Ranger?"

She shrugs. "She's my best friend, just like Ranger is yours. You mean you aren't concerned about Ranger's well-being?"

Well, she got me there. I see her point.

"Besides, right now she's your employee. What happens if she and Ranger marry? I mean, we having these discussions now, but you know if she and Ranger get their shit straight, Imma be on the phone with her about this same stuff."

That's my Lula Bear. Always trying to help but I need to stop this. She gotta understand now.

"Baby, I need you to understand something." I take her hands and look deep in her eyes. "Ranger and Steph will be the most secretive couple you and I will ever know. Ranger and I have enemies that would love nothing more than to kill us slowly and painfully."

I clench my jaw and consider how to drive this point home because right now, Lula doesn't look that scared.

"Do you know why I don't do a lot of missions?"

"You do missions?"

"Occasionally. Mostly in Africa now. Lula Bear, this entire office is dangerous for me and for you." She looks confused. I slowly start telling her some basics of my time in Central America, and by the time I'm done she's swallowing hard and shaking.

"Why'd you open an office in an area that dangerous for you? Shit, we can be kidnapped and at the border in hours! Your enemies could be on the way to this office now." She's up looking out of windows and I'm hiding a laugh. She's starting to get it.

"I opened this office because I'm ready to move closer to home and because I won't allow personal reasons get in the way of business. This is business but, if you notice, pictures of me, Bobby, Lester, and Ranger aren't on the website anywhere. If you dig you can find our names listed as partners in the public record, but we set this company up to be secretive. Bobby told you what it fronts for, right?" She nods. "OK, so you understand that I'll never be in the paper, I'll never be on the news, I'll never be a visible, public person. The fact that I'm so well-known in Carencro is about as much exposure as I can take.

So baby, the fact that the RangeMan apartment is our primary residence has to stay secret. I own other property, which we're about to go over, but none of it is in my name. All our homes, other property, cars, everything we have has to stay a secret. Understood?"

"Yeah …"

"And that's why you need to start thinking about the fact that not only will you not be able to tell Steph about our homes and apartments, but sometimes I'll tell you that our very location has to stay secret. Imma have to teach you how to talk in code. Now, technically, the Trenton apartment becomes Les's when we leave New Jersey permanently, but I'm starting to get the feeling that Ranger will always hold on to that apartment. He and Les will probably work something out about that."

"Wait, wait, wait," Lula says, looking confused. "The Trenton apartment is Lester's?"

I nod. "Technically, yeah. We bought NYC and Atlanta, so Les and Bobby went ahead and set up their apartments there, but Ranger and Les split the Boston and Trenton apartments."

"So, I'll never be allowed to see where Steph lives?" Lula sounds really hurt and sad. I get up to get her a glass of water.

"I won't say that. I will say that the decision is Ranger's to make when he returns. I think he may be persuaded to give a little and allow you up but baby?" I hand her the water. "I gotta tell you, I know my partner. If he thinks, for one minute, that you'll go searching through his stuff the moment he turns his back, you'll never make it onto the top floor of any building he controls."

"He thinks I'd go searching through his shit?" Lula looks outraged but I raise an eyebrow. She blushes and her shoulders slump. "OK, you mighta called that one right."

"Exactly." I smirk. "You gotta rein in that curiosity around Ranger. He's a private man. His first instinct will never be to share. My first instinct is not to share, not to talk, but you're gonna be my wife. I push myself to tell you the things you need to know. Ranger won't. He'll protect you, he'll honor you as my wife, he'll always look out for you and he'll always care, but Ranger is a man who won't share his personal details. He won't talk about his personal life. You and Bobby are close now, right?" She nods. "Tell me what you know about Bobby."

She sits and thinks. Finally, she looks at me in astonishment. "I don't know a damn thing about him. Hell, I don't even know how old Bobby is or where he's from!"

I nod. "Exactly. We're good at that, not giving away details. It's a part of our training, a part of our lives."

Lula slumps in the chair and sniffs. I see the tears rolling down her cheeks and I'm wondering how to stop this.

"It's just unfair to me," she says quietly. "I finally feel as if I'm part of yo' little RangeWorld, like I belong too. Steph was always a part of it. She always knew the men and had access to the building, but not me. I still don't feel as if I belong here sometimes. I always feel like I'm in the way."

Ah! OK, this is something I can speak to. "Lula Bear, look at me." Her lower lip is trembling and I reach over and kiss her. I lean back and wipe away her tears before continuing. "Ranger's feelings for Steph are deep but complicated, OK? Since that was the newest branch, Ranger was in charge and he dictated policy on the visitors and access.

Since I'm in charge while we bring this one up, you're the San Antonio version of Steph. The men are getting to know you and they like you. You have access to the building. You've been working with Maria since she arrived to make the place nice to work in and fun for the men. They look to see if you're here when they arrive. I haven't assigned you bodyguards or put a shadow on you since you spend so much of your time here or in Carencro and when you run around town, you're in my Escalade and it has tracking."

I sit back and think about how far I want to go with this. No, this is my wife. I'm gonna be honest.

"The reason Steph was so well known in Trenton is because we were always having to cover her ass when she got in over her head. That's why all the men know her and like her. They've always had to protect her. It made them feel protective of her, like big brothers to her. You didn't require protection like that. You didn't have people leaving dead bodies in your apartment or chasing you down.

You curious but you normally smart with it. You didn't go snooping where you were likely to end up in trouble unless you and her were together. Steph would go off on her own and end up in trouble. If you were in trouble, the two of you were together. See the difference?"

She nods. "Yeah, I had enough of trouble, but Steph stayed in it and we found it when we were together."

"Exactly. That's the difference. Now, if you asking me if Ranger likes you, the answer is yes. He does. He just knows you, baby. He knows that if you were allowed into his Trenton apartment you'd get nosy. You'd ask Steph a million questions about what's gone down between his sheets"–she blushes–"you'd have comments about how it's decorated, and you'd 'accidentally on purpose' start opening drawers and cabinets to take a look. Now, how far off the mark am I?"

"Fuck you."

"Later."

She laughs but flips me off.

"Now honestly, do you see Steph doing that here?" I watch her think about it before she shakes her head. "OK. So if you want access to 7 in Trenton, you're gonna have to wait for Ranger to come back from his mission and you gon' have to convince him that you won't be nosy. Otherwise, you'll never make it past the 6th floor and I'm not going to argue with him about it. That's his home. I understand his feelings on that and remember: Steph's gonna have the same restrictions when it comes to us.

I got property and homes in Louisiana I haven't shown you yet, and Ranger has no idea about them. I got stuff that I still need to show you that you can never even hint you know about, baby. You and Steph will have secrets from each other because Ranger and I have secrets from each other . And think about this: my family has never known the true extent of my holdings."

Lula's eyes widen and I nod.

"You've been told, time and time again, that they want money from me. You will be the only person in the world to know the extent of what I own."

"Ranger really doesn't know?" she asks, surprised.

"The only way Ranger will find out is in the event of my death. He is the executor of my will, with Bobby and Chenae as the backups. If I die, there's a letter my lawyer is prepared to deliver that will detail all my holdings. I update that listing every time I buy something and hide it under a shell company or in an off-shore account. That's the only time Ranger will learn the extent of what I own. That means I'm really trusting in you, Lula, not to tell all our business. You gotta keep our lives a secret.

Now, when it comes to the company, I like Steph but my issue is with Ranger." Lula looks at me in confusion. "Ranger has a tendency to want to take over every building we're in. Atlanta and NYC are decorated to Bobby's and Les's desires , but Boston, which is Les's branch, looks like Trenton, on Ranger's aesthetic. It's not right. I'm having to body check him on that and I know that Les plans to redecorate Boston. The sticking point is Trenton."

I grab some water and return to the table. "Ranger will want to hold onto the Trenton branch if he and Steph get together because of Steph's Burg roots. I honestly don't think Les will care too much about that one. I can see him giving in on that. But you never know. It was supposed to be Les's. He might decide to take it."

Lula is silent and I give her a few minutes to think about and accept what I've said so far. I'm thinking about what she said, about not feeling like a part of the RangeMan. She's right. I'm seeing a lot of double standards against Lula that Steph doesn't or won't have and I don't like it. Is that the way we intend to treat all partners' wives?

Hell, if we extend a partnership to Hector, is that the way we would treat his partner and his family? The top floor apartments? I understand. That's sacred space and each man will have to make a decision on who he will allow up there. The other floors . . . The XO wives have access to their husband's buildings as long as they're there on official business. I'm finding it hard to accept that **my **wife might not have access to RangeMan buildings and she's a partner's wife.

Even though their thoughts aren't even running in that direction right now, I'm bringing this up with Les and Bobby. I foresee an even split in the partnership. Bobby will side with me about Lula's access to certain buildings and floors. Les will . . . actually, now that I think of it, I think Les might stand neutral or even side with me. He's been spending time with Lula since she arrived and he finds all kinds of little projects for her to do. He's admitted that with proper focus and direction, my wife is an unstoppable force to get things done. San Antonio's interiors look spectacular because Lula and Maria have taken on the responsibility with Rafe, and if you give Lula a list of tasks to accomplish, she can be done before noon.

Lula sighs heavily and looks at me. "The business? Is that gonna be the same too?"

Takes me a moment to figure out what she means. "Yes. My interest and partnership in the business needs to stay a company matter. The XOs know we're partners. The top leadership know. The men who have been here longest know. Everyone else?" I shrug. "We don't hide it but we don't advertise it either."

I look at her and I can clearly see she wants to ask but she's starting to understand. I smile.

"We'll have to change the reporting structure. She'll have to report to me, not Ranger, so they can avoid a conflict of interest between them, and contrary to public opinion, I'm Ranger's partner, not his subordinate. And no, we would not allow Steph to become a partner either. That's something the entire partnership would have to vote on and allowing one wife to become a partner and not allow the other wives to become partners would be a problem."

Lula frowns. "That ain't fair to her."

Huh? "Explain."

"I don't work at RangeMan so I shouldn't run it. Steph does and you keep saying you want to keep her." I nod, wondering where Lula is going. "So why you gonna take the possibility of a partnership away from her just because of Ranger? That ain't fair. If she earns it, let her have it. Make their partnerships separate. She want in? She gotta earn it and pay for it like any other partner but don't say she can't just because of Ranger."

I sit back and look at Lula. She looks fierce about this. I laugh mentally. Steph and Lula. They'll have each other's back until the end. I write that down as something to talk about with Les and Bobby. All the partners need to have a discussion about this. I'm Ranger's primary executor so I know how his will is structured. In the event of Ranger's demise, Steph inherits his shares in the partnership. I know how strongly Ranger feels about this. He'll want to ensure Steph's taken care of, but we need to make sure the company is separate from our personal lives. We need to put that in black and white.

My personal feeling is that it's not fair, but I see Lula's point. Steph can be voted on to become a partner just like any other candidate. OK. Imma need to think on that. Something about it just doesn't seem fair to me but Lula's right. It's also not fair to remove Steph's chance to become a partner because of Ranger.

At any rate, I'm going to change the structure on Ranger. If my wife can't be a partner through marriage or death, neither can his. I love Steph but that's not right. Nope. He'll need to come up with something else. We'll pay Steph a fair market value for Ranger's shares but she can't keep his shares. Besides, at the moment, Steph's a rich woman if Ranger croaks anyway. Ranger's worth about $16 million. Bobby's the richest of the group; he clocks in around $25 million and Les is worth about $22million. Those two don't have the expenses Ranger and I do (Steph and Julie for Ranger, my family for me).

_Sigh._ I've spent the morning talking about my partner with my woman instead of my finances. Time to switch gears.

I start with the bank accounts and pull my computer to show Lula the current balance in each account. She's swallowing hard as we go through everything. I move on to the investment accounts, property, and assets and by 11, she's leaning back and moaning.

"Shit! I've never seen this kinda numbers." She looks at me. "All this is what you've accumulated since you left the Army?"

I shake my head. "Momma and Chenae invested my money while I was in, so I was able to buy my share, which was good. After that, we all started investing our money in different things, making sure we diversified. REITs, businesses, stocks, bonds, all kinds of stuff. We have a professional money manager and we watch him like a hawk. He did a good job steering us through the financial crisis, even though we took a hit in the REITs."

I look at my woman. Her eyes are big and she looks faint.

"Welcome to our world, baby girl. Let's move on to my debts and liabilities."

It takes most of the morning to run through my entire financial picture, but at the end of it Lula's nodding.

"I see why your lawyer wanted us to talk about it. My assets include my Firebird, my checking account and my clothes."

I smile. "So, let's talk about how we're going to move forward."

* * *

By the end of the day, we have a plan. Lula and I will both get lawyers and hash out the prenup. Lula agreed to sign away all interest in RangeMan and give up any rights she might have to it. In exchange, we'll work out how much I will pay her in alimony and a one-lump sum in the event of a divorce. I'll also buy her a house, since the RangeMan apartment will be our primary home and she'll no longer have access to it, and a car, which I'll replace every five years. Honestly, that was probably the toughest part of the morning, trying to determine how I'll treat Lula fairly in the event that I fuck up because chances are, it'll be me who fucks up. Been me fucking up since I slipped that ring on her finger. I gotta do better.

She's going to go to school but she wants to work somewhere part-time so she feels she's contributing to the household too. I'm good with that and I suggest we contribute proportionally.

She looks at me as if I've lost my mind.

"So, exactly how would we do that, Tank? Every month, I contribute 50 cents? Your salary is insane."

"No, technically I don't have a salary at the moment." She looks confused. "I live off my end of the year distribution from the company, spread out over 12 months. If we change the legal framework, I will have to take an appropriate salary."

She looks suspicious. "What's an appropriate salary?"

"We're still trying to work that out. Everything's up in the air right now."

She narrows her eyes. "You gotta guess. What's the range?"

Shit! _Sigh_. Here goes. "Somewhere between $250,000 and $400,000." With a lot of assumptions … so it'll probably be higher.

Lula looks at me, coughs, then laughs. She picks up the calculator and does some quick math. "So, $400,000 spread over 12 months is $33K a month. If I'm lucky, I might make that a year." She laughs until she cries and looks at me. She leaves and comes back with her purse. I watch as she digs through and hands me a dime.

"My monthly contribution to the household. What does that pay for?"

I grin. "What about donating half your salary to charity?" I watch her sit back and consider. "It would help our taxes, first of all. And once you get into social work, you could really help those in need." I take her hand and kiss her wrist. "You could give to abused women's shelters, teenage runaway programs, food banks, all of that anonymously. That way people wouldn't be after you to constantly give them money but you could also work as a social worker, really helping people change their lives."

Lula is smiling and I know I've painted the picture for her. She can see it. Slowly, her smiles drops. "It still means you paying for all our bills."

I sigh. "Baby, no matter what, I'm gonna bring home more than you. I don't say that to hurt your feelings. I say it because it's true. So let's not fight about it. You don't have to prove to me that you're my equal. I already know that."

Finally, she nods. "OK. I'll donate my salary to charity. What am I gonna do for money?"

"Use the other half for your 'mad money'." I point to one bank account. "This is the account I use for everyday expenses. We'll pay household expenses from this account."

Lula looks at me. I can see the question on her face.

"Anything you do with the money from your mad money account is your business. I'll have one for me."

She looks at me carefully. Finally, she nods and smiles. "Alright. That sounds right."

Wonderful. I reach for her. My woman is much better than Tylenol.

* * *

"Yo!"

"Yo!"

"Is the CO reviewing San Antonio?"

"I've asked her to."

Random. Ranger doesn't make calls like this.

"CIO's a sneaky little shit."

I smirk. Hector finally told me that he and Ella plan to make Ranger work for Steph's love. Personally, I was offended until he pointed out that the woman had never been courted. She's doing all the shit he'd ever want of her but he needs to do something for her. The Cop courted her with pizza and a dog. Ranger confused her. She's due some care and attention.

Hector may be a sneaky shit but he's right on that one. It took me years to break through Lula's defenses. She assumed all men wanted to fuck and leave. The fact that I courted her first left her uneasy. I had to sleep with her (big sacrifice there. Huge. I grin ) before she felt comfortable around me. Sex was something she understood. Tenderness was not.

I wonder what Hector's plan is. That he won't speak of. I told him about the psyop last week. I was thoroughly cussed out in Spanish but I see his point. He should have known. He would have been able to move the plan along a lot faster had he known. I called Les to the phone and we went through the details of our psyop. Hector said he'd get started on motivating her to achieve and meet our goals. Les and I grinned; Hector is not known for failure .

"I'm glad you're taking a quick jerk break but an answer would be good here."

"Bastard. Wait." I'm grinning. Idiot. He must miss her and is trying to figure out when he can see her.

I text Hector that I've received an inquiry about the CO's schedule. He tells me to find a polite way to tell the CCO to stuff it. I grunt. I'm going to laugh my ass off about that later then tell him to give me a real answer. Ranger's trying. Make it happen.

"Not sure. I'll make inquiries."

"Wedding planning?"

This is why Ranger is my boy. I know he doesn't want details but he does want to know the important stuff.

"May. Black and baby blue. No alcohol. We're talking about wills and prenups and a change in the corporate structure."

"Oh?" I sense his confusion.

"Current LLC agreement makes no provision for spouses. My partnership is community property the day I marry. Having to look at my will too. At the moment, she inherits everything, including my shares. I'm not the only man facing this, but my wife will be an interesting addition to the company if changes aren't made."

I hear Ranger thinking about what I've said. I know he's stuck now. He likes Lula but under no circumstances does she join RangeMan. I love my fiancée but I wouldn't hire her. Well actually, maybe I would, for admin stuff. That's what she's been doing here lately and she's a force. So he understands my meaning. Either he changes his will or our partner meetings are going to be very interesting.

"Threat?"

"Promise. Interesting dilemma the CL brought up. Currently the CO is set to inherit quite a bit. Should she do so, and turn around and marry her ex, he becomes a partner."

I'm sure Ranger is mentally shitting himself over that possibility. Morelli as a RangeMan partner? We'd kill him first.

"Interesting point. _**Shitty**_ dilemma. Changes should be made."

Ranger can be made to change his mind quickly, if you have the right leverage. "Any ideas?"

"1. Change the operating agreement. Unmarried partners required to get a prenup and future spouse required to sign a waiver of their future interest in the business. Fail to do so, must cash out. 2. Add a ban against the transfer of shares without the unanimous approval of the other partners and the right of the partners to purchase the shares. 3. Partnership has to be offered and any shares inherited to be cashed out and paid at 50% of the value of last distribution. 4. Create Buy/Sell Agreement."

Damn! "You've considered this?"

"For the past four years."

Interesting. He planned to make Steph sign a prenup. Never would have considered it. "The research is . . . ?" I know he's already done it if he can rattle that off.

"Shared drive. Future Planning. 2050 folder."

Amusing. Perfect. Exactly what I wanted. "You think all partners are prepared for that?"

"Yes."

"Last thing. Thinking of offering to the CIO."

"Agreed."

"Dissolves operating agreement."

"No. Operating agreement is private to partners. Change at will. Articles of Incorporation will have to changed and be filed. Anything else?"

Well damn. I could have saved myself the headache and just called him. See? This is the crap **he** knows, not me. "S-election?"

"Tricky." Ah. "More paperwork." HAHAHA! Trying to avoid getting chained to a desk, huh Ranger? "We'll have to hold scheduled meetings, keep written meeting minutes." We do that anyway. "CS gets hit by double taxation."

"Just CS? Not company?"

"Company is based in FL. File multiple state tax returns and take the credits in state of residence. CS is NY resident plus NYC will levy additional taxes. Screwed. Possibly CIO, NJ resident. CL, Georgia resident. They can't deduct. Not fair. Florida and Texas don't have state income tax. CEO and COO file nothing, take credits from every other state."

Ah … How in the hell does he keep this shit straight? Then again, I know the SSN and birthday of every employee in the company. Every man has a niche. He sounded smug saying that and I realize that this fucker hasn't been paying state income taxes for _years_. Damn! I think about that. That's gonna be _nice_.

"Think LLC with C-election. The legal framework is different from the IRS taxation requirements. If we change up, C all the way."

Shit! New wrinkle. I hope that folder contains something on that. "Double taxation."

"On distributions. Pay decent salary, may not need distributions. Pro? Deduct more employee expenses, like health care and 401(k) matches. Not assessed full amount of self-employment taxes. Florida corporate tax rate is 5.5% Con? Paperwork. Think it over." _Click_.

Fuck. I need Tylenol. Lula? Where are you, baby?


	31. The Housekeepers' War, Part X

**Timeline: Starts during 'The Noose is Fitted'. This chapter ends at Steph's clearance (but no additional hints.).**

**This is the final installment in the Housekeepers' War.**

* * *

**The Housekeepers' War, Part X**

**Week Three**

**Diego's POV**

I love Ella Guzman. I never thought I'd say that, but hell. I do. I love her.

The men of Miami are some tired motherfuckas.

They miss Maria and Rafe now. They're desperate for her to come home. They can't wait to tell her how much they missed her and how they're willing to work **with** her now.

Antonio had the nerve to suggest, during today's staff meeting, that we needed to get professional cleaners in here before the CO's arrival to ensure everything was perfect. I stared at him.

"Since when do you care about the CO's opinion?"

Antonio snorted. "Well, we've seen that women can find dust anywhere."

B cut me off. "My mother can find dust anywhere because that's her job, but you forget, I worked in the business too. I can spot dirt and dust too and I know you want to bring in a housekeeper cuz you half-assing the windows. Get 'em clean, muthafucka. Quit leaving streaks."

Silence around the table. B was glaring at Tony, who was red-faced and glaring back.

"Yo ass just has to dump trash. Cleaning windows is hard work."

B snorted. "And you said that anyone could do it. Well, you learning different now, aren't you?"

"What chores are not currently covered?" I asked.

Mario checked the notes. "Toliets. No one wants that."

I smiled at Tony, whose eyes widened. "Toliets or trash?"

"No fucking way."

"Fine. Toliets. I would've given you trash, so you could learn to appreciate what B's doing for us, but since you still fail to appreciate your RangeMan colleagues, you can clean up after their shit." Every man, except Tony, turned red trying not to laugh. "Literally."

I turned to Mario. "We have enough urinal cakes? I'm sure the toilets haven't had a good scrub since Rafe left."

* * *

Every man misses Armando now. I just realized that the man has not had a vacation, with the exception of the rare Sunday Mariela forces him to spend with family, in the entire time I've known him.

This week has been hell on the men.

I'm a cruel bastard. Piss me off and you get assloads of manual labor. Juan has been a beast in the kitchen. Maria gave him permission to use her binders to cook and, when he's not on duty, he cooks. Mando pushed a pay supplement through Ella for him (we told her he was earning it) and he's grateful. He's also tired.

"Man, this shit is back breaking. I could use some help, Diggy."

I stare at him. I'm mixing 50 pounds of dough and I'm amused. "Maria never got help."

He flops into a chair and swallows hard. "And you have no idea how much I regret that shit. This is fucking labor. I sit on my ass all day and do research. Maria was up here bustin' her ass to keep me fed." He looks up with a wry grin. "No wonder she's still in such great shape. Shit, anything she might gain she works off in here."

He sits back and laughs. "Hell, all the RangeMan housekeepers are in great shape. Those ladies still have it. No wonder Rafe is so hot on Maria. She cooks, she cleans, she's a sweetheart, and she's still got her figure. If I were Rafe, I'd want to get on that too."

I haven't always liked Juan, but this is the very first time I've completely agreed with him.

* * *

Braulio and the men spent days brainstorming ideas. They were all set to buy her a cookbook holder when I point out that a cookbook holder was the equivalent of buying your pops a tie. They stop and reconsider.

"Well, shit," B says, slumping. "Then what do we get?"

"It's an anniversary present. Which anniversary would this have been?"

Mario, Deuce, and B look at each other then boot up the search engines. "Hmm … damn! Maria's only 50. She's young," Mario says.

I shrug. "Which tells you?"

He looks solemn. "She lost her husband at 45. Fuck," he says quietly. All the men in the break room look solemn now.

"You know," Deuce says slowly, "something that's been rolling around in my mind." Everyone looks at him. "I spoke to Lucia before she left. She said 'The other branches have been making up for your inattention to the woman who has more impact on your lives than any other'. I was too ashamed to say shit else, but I've been wondering what she meant by that."

"And?" I ask. This is me, channeling Mando. He tried to make you think. I'm trying to make these idiots think about the fact that they collected an assload of money then tried to buy Maria a damn cookbook holder. Jesus Christ. A cookbook holder. Both insulting and inappropriate.

He shrugs. "I still don't know." Deuce bites his lip then reaches for the phone and dials.

"Yo!"

"Yo! Mack!"

"Sup, homie!"

"Kickin it'. Look, I got a question for you. You had Maria there. Was she happy?"

Mack laughs. "Homes, if we didn't have Lucia, we'd have kept her. She is _fierce_!"

I look at Tony from the corner of my eye. He's listening carefully.

Mario smiles. "Yo! Mario here. What did you guys get her as a goodbye gift?"

"Why?"

"We're trying to think of anniversary gifts."

"Smooth. We finished off her husband's present."

Mario's shoulders slump. "Which was?"

Silence, then, "Please don't tell me you don't know, homes."

"No clue."

"That's fucked up." Mack sounds pissed. "That woman lives with you and you didn't know her husband bought her a Wüsthof every year?"

"No."

"Damn. Y'all deserve to lose her. Yeah, every year on her birthday he bought her one Wüsthof knife. Expensive fucking knives but they're the best in the world. Trenton, Atlanta, and NYC all finished off the set. Trenton replaced the Chef's knife and bought her a sharpener. A-town bought the custom knife case, and we popped for the Deli knife. She has the complete set now. Boston bought her an iPod. Y'all finish the hook up in her prep area?"

Every man in the room is silent. Even I'm ashamed to realize that I didn't know that. I look at Thomas and he's red.

"Yeah, we did. Thanks for making me feel low, Mack," Thomas says.

"You deserve it. Shit, we'd never allow Lucia's birthday to pass without taking her out to dinner and dancing or doing something nice to say thank you. So you need an anniversary gift?"

"Yeah."

"Which anniversary?"

Mario looks. "Would have been the 20th this year."

Mack hums. We hear him typing. "Aigh, here's what I would do. If you want to celebrate her husband, then that's china or platinum. I got no ideas there. She into knick knacks?"

"Nah. Not that we've seen."

"OK. So if you wanna celebrate her anniversary with you, that's what? Fifth?"

"Fourth."

"Perfect! That's electronics so get her an iPad. She played with Javi's while she was here and she loved it. That works for both anniversaries, plus she can put pics of her husband on it. You wanna get her something nice, get that."

"Those things are expensive as hell," Antonio said, getting pissed. "I don't have one and I'm not buying one for the cook."

Silence in the room. Every man is looking at Tony, pissed. Mack, however, is really pissed.

"Then don't eat another thing she cooks, with yo' cheap ass! Shit, you could get her the mid-size iPad with cell for about $800. There's 80 of you. That's $10 each. $10 for the four years of service she's given you? You ain't shit, whoever the fuck you are."

I love Thomas's cousin. He's democratic in his dislike and he made being in NYC worth it. I hated busting his ass open on the mats but hey, I'm equal opportunity. He fucked up and he paid the penalty. I built him back up though, just as Mando always did for me. 'Don't tear down what you can't rebuild,' Mando always says.

I look at Mario, who's nodding. "Mack's right. We've collected $600. Everyone pops $10 each and we'll ask Teddy G to get one and make sure he gift-wraps it for her. A little something something to say thanks for the past four years."

I nod. Good gift. It's not a tie.

* * *

I slide off to the bathrooms. Those urinal cakes smell nice but I'm betting Tony did a half-assed job. I can't **wait** to hand him a toothbrush and make him redo it. Hmmm . . .

1200 finds me outside looking at the windows. Tony and Nacho are exhausted. I'm amused. These guys wouldn't have survived the military. Mando was a corporal. He learned how to clean with a toothbrush. I know. I served under him. When Mando wants to put my ass back in line, he simply looks at me and says, 'toothbrush'.

"They're streaky." Silence. I look over and they're glaring at me. "Fix your faces. After all, I remember you doing this to Rafe once. 'It's hard to see out the windows. They're streaky'." I mimic Nacho, who reddens. "Clean 'em right."

"And if we don't?"

I turn around, smiling. "Push me." I turn to Tony and hand him a toothbrush. "Nice job hiding the built-up piss under the urinal cake. Now clean it the right way."

By the time it starts raining at 1400, the windows are clear. The better to watch the rain.

* * *

Thomas and I are holding the fort and we're enjoying it. Staff meetings are much more enjoyable. The men know I'm not Mando. I'll fuck you over and take pleasure in it.

"Report." I'm in Mando's chair at the head of the room and looking down the table in amusement. I've often wondered if there was a personality attached to this seat. This is the only time Mando usually channels Ranger.

"There's been an uptick in security installs. We'll need to look at monitoring and make sure we have the capacity," B reports.

The reports pretty much continue in that vein. All our services are growing like mad, except one.

"Bodyguard services is steady."

"Why?"

Antonio looks cool. "Excuse me?"

"Fart elsewhere. Answer my question."

The men snicker while Tony reddens. I **despise** this underling. I wish to God I'd not convinced Mando to just allow his cousin to fill the position. Mando was desperate to find someone else. He knew better but he listened to his partner. He listened to me and I steered him wrong here. Fuck.

"Our services are holding steady. Nothing wrong with that."

"Plenty wrong with that when you consider that monitoring and installs are growing. Plenty wrong with the fact that you're holding steady. Steady means you're losing as many clients as you gain. Why?"

"I can't determine who the mole is."

Everyone quiets. This person is just asking for the beating of his life when we figure out who the fuck he is.

"Latest loss in individual contracts?"

"Ruiz's. Signed with SecureMan. I couldn't convince them to change their minds."

If this mole is a Liam-style turncoat, he's a dead man. That's eight to SecureMan. I'm investigating, separately, and getting nothing. I can't figure it out and I'm no slouch. I did this in NYC. I **know **how to uncover a turncoat.

I dismiss the staff meeting 15 minutes later and walk into my office to find Mariela there, smiling. "Here." She holds out lunch for me and Thomas. Thomas is also babysitting and running errands whenever Mari needs it. We love Alyssa and, as her godfather, I'm always happy to spend time with her. Thomas is Elena's godfather. We love our girls.

I grin. "Thanks. You're a life saver. Heard from Mando?"

Mari starts crying. I'm stunned, and scared, and I hand her my handkerchief and pull her into a hug. Tony passes and his eyes widen. I close the door in his face.

"Everything OK? I need to go rescue him from NJ?" I'm just teasing on that last part. Mark's ass needs a rescue. Mando should be OK.

Mariela looks at me, smiling. "He's fine. Better than fine. You'll see soon." She giggles. "I'm getting my husband back."

I can't help but grin. "Come on, give me a hint."

She smiles. "Pre 'RangeMan Tony' Mando ."

My smile drops in shock before I start laughing. "You're kidding? Please tell me you're not kidding."

She grins. "Tell no one. I'm not kidding. Ms. Plum is a miracle worker. The Mando who returns to Miami will not be the one who left."

"I can't wait to see it," I reply, smiling. I wave at my lunch. "I need to babysit the girls tonight?"

"Please. I need to go handle some things."

"No problem. What time?"

"1800?"

I nod and Mari leaves. I sit and open my lunch. Mari is a fantastic cook. Rice, beans, grilled grouper, salad with avocado. I call Thomas and he joins me, all grins. We're eating well. The other men, well, it depends.

If the other men have a woman in their life willing to cook for them, and willing to follow RangeMan standards, they're OK. So most of the leadership is OK. My mom taught me to do laundry years ago, so my laundry is fine. Thomas is in the same situation.

Tony's mother showed up with meals for all the other men who had no other recourse. All the heavy, labor intensive meals that Maria used to cook and I could tell the housekeepers' war had an influence. The men actually thanked her each day. Mrs. Delgado was stunned and Tony was amused. Thomas and I were amused that he didn't allow anyone to treat his mom the way he treated Maria.

Too bad I'm an asshole.

Mando and I let them enjoy it for two weeks, then I called Bobby and asked him to order Jackson to pull a pop health assessment. They all flunked. Running, sit-ups, push-ups–those heavy ass meals from Concepción Delgado meant they were sluggish.

Tony's mother and her meals are banned from RMMiami. They're back to starving, especially since Bobby told us in a staff meeting that we will get his attention sooner rather than later. We know what that means. He's going to land here sometime in the coming month.

Thomas and I laughed our asses off. I'm sure Tony suspects I'm behind it but I'm enjoying fucking with him.

He drove his cousin, my partner, mad. If what Mariela says is true, and I'm getting old Mando back, I'm more than willing to [help him] drive his cousin insane until he's fired.

* * *

**Maria's POV**

Lula and I got out of the building after breakfast. I've been wondering if it would be appropriate to tell Lula she looks lovely. She's lost 10 pounds, 15 since she arrived in Texas, and she's stunned. I don't want to make a big deal out of it. She's beautiful no matter what size she is.

I've taken special trouble to make sure her meals are nutritious and delicious. I've gathered from Bobby that when she visits Mrs. LaPierre, Mrs. LaPierre feeds her traditional Louisiana cuisine. On one hand, it's full of fresh veggies and meat.

On the other? Etouffe? Gumbo? Jambalaya?

So Lula has a built-in diet fail, especially since she loves her future mother-in-law and her food is outstanding. Lula brought some gumbo back to San Antonio and, I have to admit, it was delicious. I could see why Lula couldn't help herself.

So I pulled my old recipe collection and finally found a recipe that was 350 calories as opposed to the traditional 900 calorie salt bomb. Lula admitted it wasn't as good as Mrs. Carol Jean's.

"Hell, nothing is. That woman can cook. Yours is damn good and if I hadn't had hers first, I'd like it."

I smiled. "OK. So, when you're here in San Antonio and you and Tank really want some gumbo, this will do. It's within guidelines."

"OK, I can work with that."

I start looking for ways to rework all Lula and Tank's favorite meals. I find a lightened version of etouffe and prepare it for Tank and Lula. Tank later returns the bowls to the prep area. I look over and he smiles.

"If asked, I'll deny it, but that was excellent, Maria. Now, if my mother asks, I don't know you."

I laugh. That was a lot of words for Tank and it was all a compliment. I feel wonderful all day.

First time in a long time that anyone in Leadership Core has complimented me. I guess making meals they can eat helps.

* * *

Today we're headed to the mall. The stores won't open until 9 am, but this is something I used to do to lose weight.

"Nothing's open," Lula says, looking around in confusion.

"I know. We're going to window shop for a while." She looks at me as if she smells a rat and I smile. "OK, so we're going to exercise too."

"Aw hell, you're gonna ruin the mall for me," Lula says, looking pained.

I laugh. "Nope, come on. I'll show you."

We enter near Macy's and start walking. "I did this when I noticed I gained some weight. I'd come to the mall and walk. You walk this mall once and that's a mile." Lula looks at me in surprise. I nod. "So think about it. We walk the mall and scope what's on sale. We make plans, talk about the things you need for your apartment upstairs, the wedding, what the building needs, all that stuff. When the stores open, we're the first ones here. We shop and exercise at the same time."

We're moving now. I'm setting a brisk pace and Lula's huffing a little to keep up with me.

"OK, I'm with you, but you walking too fast to look!"

"Well, we know what's in Macy's. Only thing to know there is women's fashions are on sale. No need to waste time here. Look around." Lula looks. The mall is full of women like us, both powerwalking and window shopping. "These are the super shoppers. They know what's on sale. Let's catch up and talk to them."

I catch the woman in front of us. "Hello!"

She looks around. "Hi."

"I'm Maria and this is Lula. We're new."

"I'm Andrea." We wave and match Andrea's pace.

"What's on sale around here?"

"Well, Victoria's Secret is having their semi-annual bra sale but Danielle, the manager, said the good stuff won't come in until Thursday. Bath and Body works is having their 'buy 3, get 2 free' thing but all the scents I like are online. Lane Bryant's semi-annual Cacique sale kicks off next week and all their good stuff goes the first day. Neiman Marcus is having a white sale."

Andrea continues listing all the sales. I'm nodding and making a mental list of places to go. I look over at Lula, who is stunned.

"How do you keep up with all that stuff?"

Andrea squints at her. "You one of those people who kinda sorta comes to the mall?" Lula shrugs. "Honey, I walk here every day, rain or shine. It's covered, air conditioned, and it contains my favorite view." She grins and we laugh. "You do this for a while and you know when everything goes on sale. The managers get to know you and start telling you about the merchandise. You don't have to wonder if you're buying something at the right time. You know you are."

"Well damn," Lula breathes, looking at me. "And I thought I was good."

I laugh. "Stick with me Lula dear. I'll show you how to shop!"

* * *

Tank looks surprised. We returned with multiple bags of things. Sheets and towels for the apartments, clothes (with color!) for Tank and a few pieces for Lula. The serveware for the men also arrived from the supplier so we swung by and picked it up. Lula called ahead and told him we needed help unloading the truck, so Tank's in the garage overseeing the unloading.

He needs his Escalade. He has to go follow up on a bid and he looks very handsome in his suit. Lula grins.

"Here." She hands him a beautiful blue paisley tie and I watch Les and Bobby try not to smile. Tank doesn't hesitate. He removes his tie and immediately puts on Lula's. I smile. How sweet. He checks the tag.

"Thomas Pink. Nice."

"I noticed you had a few of them." She frowns. "That's not one you already have, is it?"

"Nope." He kisses her forehead, snags the keys and waves. Lula watches him leave, a completely besotted look on her face. She turns around, but Lester and Bobby didn't hide the smirks fast enough.

"I got my stun gun."

Blank faces in place.

Lula nods, satisfied. "Now, y'all got something you need me to do?"

Les grins. "Range time."

Lula groans. Her aim is lousy.

* * *

We start interviewing for the position tomorrow. I had no idea how to evaluate different employees, so Rafe and I got together to talk about it last week.

"I say we give them a practical," Rafe said. "Let's not clean for three days, then ask them to evaluate the building. The ones who are best able to identify all the problem areas, have suggestions for improvements, and can work as a team make the short list."

I brightened. "Yes, and the potential housekeeper will need to make some dish when she arrives that Lula and the Leadership core will taste. After all, this will be Lula and Tank's home branch. They need to like her cooking."

Rafe smiled. "I agree. I think that you may want to include some of the men, like the housekeeping committee, on that taste testers' panel. They will be the ones eating her food most of the time, especially if the Leadership Core decides to open more branches. The men need to like her food too."

I nodded and we started making a list of things to test the prospective housekeepers and maintenance men on. We are strategic in the areas we leave untouched and we inform the men not to clean in those places.

We're ready to test.

The first couple is the Silvas. They are polite and chipper and very thorough. They find every speck of dust and dirt in the building. Even better, Lula and Tank enjoy their meals. We sit down, all six of us, and discuss what the requirements are to work here. They seem very interested and I leave thinking that they might be the winners.

I called it too soon.

Each couple and individual who walks in is very much like them. The housekeeper makes tasty meals, and the maintenance man is excellent at finding dust and dirt and working as a team with the housekeeper. Rafe and I are stymied.

The final couple of the day is the Williamses. From the beginning, I don't like them. They're interested in the building, but overly. I look over and Rafe looks concerned too.

"So, how long have you worked for the company?" Elizabeth Williams asks.

"Long enough to know we ask the questions and you answer them," Rafe replies. She blushes and turns back to examining the building.

We take them to the prep area and show them the stocks and supplies. I ask Elizabeth to get started on two sample meals using the ingredients I have for her. She looks confused.

"I didn't realize I'd have to cook."

I stare at her. "We aren't simply going to take your word that you know how to cook healthy, tasty low-fat meals. You have to prove it. One meal for the leadership, another for the men."

"So, are you required to serve the branch leaders in their offices?" John Williams asks.

"No," I reply coolly. "Your wife would be a housekeeper, not a maid. You set the meals in the break room and everyone serves themselves. You only deliver a meal if one is called for."

"Oh."

"We'll leave you to it," I reply. Rafe and I leave and run directly into Lester. He opens his hands.

Six bugs.

"Good call, Maria, Rafe," he whispers in our ears. Rafe sent an SOS message to Lester and Bobby the moment we agreed something was wrong. He hands the bugs to Ches Deuce.

"Well?"

"Let them finish. I want to see how well they bug the room. How much time does she have?"

"One hour."

Les nods. "We're recording everything. Take a break."

We return an hour later. Mrs. Williams has prepared a risotto and baked a chicken.

The risotto is like glue. The chicken is undercooked. Tank and Lula appear and pick at it.

"What the hell is this?" Lula asks. I hide a smile.

"Risotto," Elizabeth Williams replies, looking affronted.

"It looks like snot. I'm not eating it." Lula pushes the dish away and stares at Tank, who is examining the contents of his spoon.

"I must agree with my fiancée. Les? Bobby? What do you think?"

The Williamses turn around to find two Glocks in their faces. "I think these two had better tell us who they are and they better start talking fast," Bobby says.

It's silent in the room. The Williamses turn back to us and everyone except Lula has drawn a gun. She looks around in annoyance.

"Y'all ain't fucking fair. I'm the only person here without a piece."

"Lula." Tank's voice is tight and angry.

Lula looks at him, blinks, and gets up. "Well, if I still have a vote, my vote is hell no on them," Lula mutters, sashaying from the room.

I look around and stand, putting my Glock 26 back in its holster. "I think I should scoot and let the men do their thing."

"I'll come with you," Rafe says quickly, also sheathing his gun. He turns back to the Williamses. "I think it's pretty clear we won't call you back for a round two." We leave; I'm in giggles and Rafe is amused.

I never see the Williamses leave, but Les and Bobby later pat me on the back. "Good looking out for us, Maria, Rafe."

"No problem," Rafe replies. "After all, Ranger told us this might someday be a possibility."

My hands are still shaking but I nod. "Yes and now that someday has come, I feel better." I smile. "I know I can handle it and I'll be alive at the end." The men smile and I look back toward the prep area.

"I feel like having a chocolate cheesecake to settle my nerves, though. You think Lula might want a piece?"

Bobby and Les laugh. "You really needed to ask that? Tank proposed with a cheesecake!" Bobby says.

"OK, serious for a moment," Les says. "There's been a slight change in plans. Ella's coming out later because Steph moved her clearance up. Who would you say was your number one pick?"

Rafe and I retrieve our sheets and look. "The Silvas. The first couple."

Les nods. "Lula liked them best and the men liked their food. OK, we'll give them the month-long trial." We stand and Les kisses my cheek and shakes Rafe's hand. "Thanks for everything." He grins. "Miami v. Texas?"

Rafe and I look at each other and nod. We've discussed this time and time again. "Texas."

* * *

Lula, Rafe and I are returning to Trenton tomorrow and all of RangeMan San Antonio has decided to throw us a party. She is genuinely shocked and surprised by the way the men hug her and ask her when she's coming back.

"I'm not staying," she says, trying not to cry. "I just need to pack up my apartment and get some things settled. So I'll be gone for like a month."

"Well, come back soon. We'll miss you. Plus, Ms. Maria is leaving too," Gonzo says. He looks around. "I mean, once you ladies leave, it's back to being a sausage factory around here."

Lula and I fall out laughing. Ches Deuce hits Gonzo in the head and Bobby, Tank, and Lester all slide their blank faces into place.

"Ouch! OK, sorry, but for real. Look around. No women. Lula and Maria are cool."

"I agree, dumbass, but I'm not a member of the sausage factory."

"Really? I'd ask what you're packing but I don't want to know."

Every man is laughing at this point, including the leadership. Lula looks around and smiles.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "I feel like, well, not a RangeMan but like I belong. First time. I appreciate it."

"We appreciate you," Gonzo says, hugging her. "Come back. If it takes you longer than a month to move, we're coming after you." He looks at me and Rafe. "We'd like to come after you too. Hurricanes don't really seem to be your thing."

"We'll see," Rafe says, grinning at me. "I have to admit, Texas isn't so bad."

"**HUA**!" the men cheer, and we both laugh.

I go to the prep area to get the cake and Lula follows me and shuts the door.

"Maria, I need to speak to you."

"About?"

"Why did you leave Miami?"

I sigh and sit down. "It's a long story."

"I got time."

I look at Lula and realize I'm not going anywhere until she knows what happened. So I start telling her about my time in Miami, how much I grieved my husband, and how I didn't realize how badly I was treated until I left. Lula nods and passes me tissues. She glares wherever any man sticks his head through the door. Tank sticks his head in, looks at us, nods, and leaves.

"So you got bullied?"

I sniff. "I was harassed."

"They ever tell you you would lose your job if you didn't sleep with 'em?"

I'm horrified. "No!"

"Then they bullied the hell outta you." I nod. "I know the difference. Steph's cousin, Vinnie the pervert, he sexually harassed me and Connie 'til we set his skinny ass straight. They bullied you. The difference is the sex part." She sits back. "Now, that I know. I know workplace laws that deal with sex."

"So, based on what you know . . ." I'm searching for a way to ask this. "Was what happened to me illegal?"

Lula sighs. "Nope. Shit was wrong but not illegal. Course, I ain't a lawyer, so I could be wrong but I know this." She sits up and glares at me. "When you head back there, in one or two weeks, you better not let them do it to you again. If you do, I'll beat your ass and theirs!"

I laugh, but she's serious. "I mean it. I hear that Ms. Ella and your co-workers did a number on those men and they're ready to see you and apologize. They've been bullied and they didn't like it. Still, the ones who did most of the bullying, they'll do it again. They'll wait until no one's paying attention and they'll be back at you. So you better be ready to beat the shit outta them. Got it?"

"Got it." I reply, nodding once.

"I mean it. You too good a woman to allow any man to treat you just any way. Armand wouldn't have liked that. He wouldn't have allowed any man to treat you like that, right?"

"Right!" I'm getting fired up. Lula is good at raising my spirit.

"And I know that because I know my Tankie would beat the shit outta any man who did that shit to me. That's assuming that's all he did. I'm thinking that, if it was me, a bullet in the brain might not be enough for Tank."

I smile. She's right about that. Tank loves Lula and really adores her. He watched the men like hawks to make sure no one was disrespecting his fiancée, but it was unnecessary. The men here really like Lula. She's funny and upbeat and she's learned all their names. She likes them too.

"Now, I might be about to stick my nose in too far here"–I laugh and Lula grins–"but you gotta man ready to be yo' new sweet thang the moment you decide you're ready." I frown in confusion and she grins. "Rafe."

I know I'm blushing. "Rafe and I are just good friends."

"Uh huh," she says slyly. "And I'm betting if you gave Rafe some encouragement, he'd like to be better friends."

I laugh. "I dunno . . . "

"Y'all both lost a partner. You both know how lonely life is without someone. Just cuz you start stepping out with him, it don't mean you love Armand no less. Just means that you gon' live a little more."

Lula stands up and picks up the cake.

"Imma leave you here, but I make no promises 'bout this cake." I laugh and she leaves, smiling.

She's right. I'm ready.

I'll not be bullied ever again. No one is going to tell me how to do my job. I've had four months in other branches and not once did any man ever tell me I didn't know how to do my job. They helped me with whatever I needed, they treated me like an expert, and they were appreciative. That's the treatment I expect.

Lula is right. Armand would not have tolerated what happened to me. So, in his honor, I'll never allow anyone to bully his wife ever again.

Now, about Rafe . . .

* * *

**Week Four**

**Diegos' POV**

Thomas joked that he's going to start praying to Steph Plum.

I feel him on that. I went and lit a candle for her the Monday after the email came out, and me and the chapel don't see a lot of each other. I swear I love Steph Plum. She will remain one of my favorite women until my dying day.

I can see what Mariela meant. Mando came back and I saw the man who originally took over RMMiami. This Mando didn't need my help. I slid right back into my place as his second and waited to see how he would handle things.

When he slammed Tony to the floor and told him to get out of his office, I was stunned. Thomas and I stepped away, laughing silently. That man was **on** and accepting no shit from anyone.

When I saw the email with my elevation, I was stunned. Stunned, thrilled, and ready. Interim XO for three months?

What does Plum worship require? I need to call Hal and get a list of her favorite things right now. She's giving me a chance to clean up this branch, fire every difficult motherfucker here, and show I can be an XO? I **know** I'm going to be under watch now.

The windows will be cleaned twice a day.

I headed off to Mando's office. I figured that _my_ sincere congrats would be welcome and it was. Best part? I got to swing my balls from jump. Every man in the building knew his ass was in trouble from that moment on.

I **will** fire. You bastards aren't going to drive **me** crazy. Fuck with me if you want to. I'm ready.

* * *

I spent Tuesday at Mando's, helping him pack. His family was mostly silent, a first. They seemed a little afraid of Mando. Thomas had point in the office and he swung by and picked up Alyssa and Elena and took them back to RangeMan to babysit.

He said graveyards were noisier than the office.

It was the first time I've ever seen Mando's family defer to him. They stepped to him with respect in his home. They asked permission before they did things.

I'm sure I looked stunned but hell. I was looking at a miracle. Best part? Mando was cool the entire time. Anyone even looked like they were about to get out of line and Mando gave them a look that said _I dare you_. Mari was clearly thrilled. She was the queen in her home again and she gave out orders like it.

Tony and Chita were banned unless they were there to help pack so, of course, they didn't come over.

Off-duty men from RMMiami showed up to help me pack Mando while he and Mari met with the realtor. Mrs. Cortes showed up, wanting entry, but she froze at the sight of me. She and I don't really get along and she knew she wasn't going to get any farther than the driveway with me standing in the door.

She and her sister turned right around and left.

I told Mando about it when he returned and he merely smiled and nodded. We finished packing Mando and helped him load the U-Haul. I promised to help keep an eye on Mari and the girls while he went and established himself in Charlotte. He thanked me and I hugged my partner, my brother, and wished him well. He smiled and clapped me on the back.

"You too, man. You too."

Thomas reported that every man, except those in the leadership, was nervous as hell. They know I'll fire and they spent the day worrying about their performance. Thomas said Tony never left his office. He's a scared man right now. He knows I'm waiting for him to screw up.

* * *

**One week later**

Wednesday. Julio decides to get smart in the way only a stupid person can.

"Diego, the men have a petition to present to the Leadership Core."

"You're missing a word off that sentence."

It becomes a stare down, me seated at the head of the table, fingers pitched, mentally laughing. Julio turning red and angry at the other end of the room.

"Diego, the men have a petition to present to the Leadership Core, sir."

I smirk. "Haven't learned the lesson, huh?"

His jaw ground. "SOPs state—"

"You have the required 70% of signatures?" Silence. "Thought not. Next order of business."

"The petition is about you."

"You're missing a word off that sentence."

"The petition is about you, sir," he says through gritted teeth.

"Appropriate. You aren't a member of management, so you present at 'New Business.'"

We handle branch business. Finally we get around to 'New Business'. "So you have chosen to present a petition, about me, to the Leadership Core? Thereby bypassing two levels of management?"

"Two?" Antonio says, confused.

"I'm interim XO, with the power and authority, but Armando is still, officially, the XO of Miami. You still have to present this to him. Did you present it to him?"

Mario raises his hand. "OK, Diego, can you explain how it works?"

I shrug. "I have the ability to make all decisions as the XO. My orders and decisions carry XO weight. However, Armando is still the legal, official signatory for RMMiami. I run all my decisions by him during our daily call." I smile. "Because this is my opportunity to show the CO that I'm ready for other duties, as she may assign"—every man smiles except Tony—"Mando is not overturning my decisions. However, if you want to present a petition about me, you present to him. He's still my boss and he has the right to make decisions about me. If you don't present to him, Ms. Plum would be the next step."

I drop my blank face in place and look at Julio. "You don't present directly to Leadership Core in any circumstances. They aren't your first step. They're last and the last time you men presented to them, against management advice, you initiated a colossal fuckup. You might want to think about slowing your roll with those petitions."

"We still want to present the petition."

"70% of the men sign on?"

Silence.

"Meeting dismissed." I stand and close my folio. "Julio?" He looks over. "Mats. 1800."

He swallows hard and leaves.

1700-2000 is a busy time for me. Everyone gets 30 minutes and I took a leaf from Hal Linden's book. I don't thrash. I destroy.

Every day, mat time reduces by half.

* * *

"Yo!"

"Yo? Is that how your mother taught you to answer a phone?"

I grin. "Maria! Hello. No, my mother hates when I answer with 'yo'. I'll have to put you on the family ring tone so I don't answer with 'yo'."

She laughs and I'm thrilled to hear it. She sounds so happy. "I hear you're in charge of Miami. Congrats."

"I doubt the men agree with you." We both laugh at that. "How can I help you?"

"Ella has recalled me to Trenton for a week, so I'll be home next week."

"OK."

"I'm giving you a heads up. I'm coming in one week before Stephanie does and Bobby's coming in the day after me."

I make notes in code. Excellent! I'll tell Thomas and we'll prep. "Thanks, Maria. We'll prep."

"What do you think, Diego? Should I come home?"

I exhale heavily and sit. "Honestly, no. I think that if you love San Antonio and you feel it's right for you, you should stay there. Or you could transfer to Charlotte. I don't think Miami is quite ready for you yet."

"You're not just saying that because you hope to transfer here, right?"

I grin. "Nope, not just saying that. I truly mean it, but come home and assess for yourself."

"I am. Stephanie is staying for a month. So the men will have five weeks to prove they want to keep me."

"I'm sure they'll try their best."

* * *

"Yo!"

"Yo." Lester. I sit. "Why did Julio call me with some bullshit petition?"

"Good question. It concerned me?"

"Yes."

"I'm clear to fire?"

"At-will."

* * *

I call Julio to my office.

"I got a call today." I'm sitting back, fingers pitched. "From my boss."

Julio pales.

"He informed me he got a call about and I quote, 'some bullshit petition', unquote. Care to explain?"

Julio swallows hard. His hands are shaking.

"You think I don't talk to my boss? You think you can just bypass me and that shit will be ignored?"

Silence.

"I guess you didn't believe the rumors I would fire, huh? OK. Let's make them a reality. You're fired. Hand over your RangeMan badge, gun, and any licenses held in our name."

"You don't have the authority."

"Fine. If he doesn't, I do." Mando. Cold as ice. Julio's eyes get impossibly wide. "Julio, you're fired. Hand over your RangeMan badge, gun, and any licenses held in our name."

Julio is stiff and frozen.

"Don't take all day, Julio. I have other shit to do here in Charlotte."

Julio swallows hard and starts removing items. I send the email to Atlanta and they start wiping Julio's access. I confiscate the guns, badge, keys, licenses, and key fobs. An email from Silvio pops up. All our gear on his cars has been removed.

I slide a folder in front of him, from Candace Taylor, containing all his official separation paperwork. I walk him through signing each piece then call Thomas to my office and hand it to him to copy. Thomas returns minutes later with the copies and I motion for Julio to stand.

"I'll walk you to the exit."

"I know where it is."

"I know you do but no need for you to make any detours." I stand and Mando disconnects. Thomas sends the official email.

To: RangeMan Miami

From: The Interim XO

**RE: Julio Ramirez**

Please be advised that Julio Ramirez is no longer a member of the RangeMan brotherhood. He is not to be given access to our systems, told company business, or treated as a 'RangeMan' brother. Failure to comply will result in **your** separation.

Diego Garcia

CC: the Leadership Core, the CO, the CIO, the head of HR, the Charlotte XO

One down. Nine more (on my personal list) to go.

The walk is silent. Julio is completely red. I walk him to the garage and watch as he exits for the last time. I walk back inside and every man is silent.

"Who's next?"

* * *

Julio was the first of three. I was on a roll. Julio, Rico, and Chris. Insubordination, each and every one and although I got the credit, Mando actually did the firing. A compromise between us: Mando was desperate to do it. "I should have done this long ago. I love that the CO is giving me a chance, but I still want to clean up Miami."

Not a problem for me. It's my face they're looking at as they hand their shit over. It's me saying 'you're fired' first. I recommend the terminations and we both execute them.

Mando wants to be here, in person, the day I have grounds to fire Tony. He's determined to handle that one personally.

The news got out quick: Diego does not play. 'Sir' should become a part of your vocabulary. Don't step to him with bullshit. Keep your mouth closed, head down, and do your fucking job.

Mat time is down to zero. Unnecessary now. The last man to get mat time with me was on bed rest for a week.

* * *

Around the company, RangeWorld is the second most interesting item. The commanding officer's clearance is at the top of the list. Thomas and I get quiet updates from Mack. She's blowing it out of the water. Thomas and I grin and consider what to send her. It has to be appropriate.

Thomas suggested RangeMan bikinis. I asked him if he'd give that to Ranger. He grinned and said yeah but the boss would look weird in a bikini.

Fool. I nearly pissed myself trying not to laugh.

We brainstorm with Mando and realize that buying a gift for a woman is tough. It has to be appropriate, it has to be memorable, it can't be cheap or tacky, and, in this case, it has to be something that would be appropriate if it were a man in the position, which sucks. Stephanie Plum is not a man and I don't want to buy her a subscription to Guns and Ammo or Concealed Carry Magazine. I mean, that would be appropriate (if unnecessary) for Ranger, but boring to her. I don't think getting her a subscription to Cosmo or Vogue would go over well.

Worse, it's something we have to ship to Trenton or hold until she arrives here.

So, what to do? What to do?

Finally, we have a gift and it's something we can do when she arrives. We grin and start brainstorming for a gift for Maria's return.


	32. Calls to NYC

**Chapter 68.5 Calls to New York**

**Mack's POV—Wednesday night**

My phone always seems to ring during dinner. Homie can never eat in peace.

"Yo."

"Yo, Mack?"

"Sup." Who the fuck is this?

"Hi, this is Stephanie Plum."

Yo . . . the Boss Lady. I set the wing down and wipe my fingers. This is gonna be major. She need me to come shank that asshole Mark? I can ride in minutes.

"Yo, Boss Lady, good to hear from you. Please tell me Javi managed to convince you to come back and visit us."

Laughter. I like the CO. She major, she's real, and she's pretty fucking hot. Ain't a lotta women like her. Makes me respect Ranger even more. The man is a fucking genius.

"I can't promise. My schedule is about to get tight, but I'm thinking a visit around Christmas. Maybe take my nieces to see the Rockettes and the Christmas tree."

I've never seen the Rockettes. I wonder if Ahmed and Hamid would like that. My boys need to see more than just the hood.

"Sounds good. My boys ain't never seen the Rockettes. Don't know if they've ever been outside Brooklyn, really. If you come for Christmas, I'll escort if you let me bring my boys."

"Done deal. I think I'll go ahead and start planning then."

I'm grinning. So the CO will be back around Christmas. I'll tell Jorge so we can start planning. It may not be our review but we don't want her to think we slipping anywhere.

"Anyway, I was calling for a different reason. Is this a good time?"

"Sure. Go ahead." I pop the wings into the microwave and look from some paper. I've noticed the big bosses always write stuff down, especially when talking to her.

"This call is about you." Whoa. I stop in my tracks and wonder if I'm about to be fired. "During my week here, I've talked to all the XOs about company and branch needs and your name was mentioned more than once as a good candidate to be a strategist."

I sit on my couch, stunned. Serious? Somebody besides Javi thinks I'm that major? To be a big boss? Senior branch management?

"I agree with their assessments. I would love to slot you into a strategist role, but I need something to happen first."

"I'm all ears, boss. Tell me what you need." This woman believes in me. I'll do whatever the fuck she wants.

"Well, the biggest thing is I need for you to be comfortable in front of clients. I need you to feel like you can talk to them, and I remember you said you didn't like to because you sound . . . "

"Hood. I sound hood." I'm nodding.

"Yeah. So, what do you think you need in order to feel comfortable in front of clients?"

I sit back and think. Shit, I need an education. I dropped out in 10th grade. Being around Javi and Jorge has shown me that this is the kind of life you can have when you got that paper. I just don't know how to tell this woman, this brilliant fucking woman, that. I decide to man up. Word is, be honest. She'll help.

"Yo, Boss, the problem is I ain't a good student. Never was. I dropped out in 10th grade, so I ain't even got a high school diploma."

"GED?"

"Nah."

"OK. I want you to work on getting your GED and I'd like to see you go for a college degree." I write that down, even though I'm mentally groaning. "I'm going to tell you something that few people know, Mack. You listening?"

"Yeah, I'm wit you."

"I nearly flunked out of college."

I sit up. That's major. "For real?"

"Yeah. I majored in pool. I hated math. I flunked that twice, so you know the spreadsheets and financial statements in this company are killing me."

I laugh. Shit, I'm still in shock. I wonder if the CO can hustle.

"But yeah, flunked math, slept in the library and daydreamed through history. I only made it through because my dad said that if I flunked out I couldn't come home and he wasn't paying for me to retake anything. I hustled to pay for the classes I flunked."

Holy shit! The CO hustled? "You know I'm taking you to a pool hall to prove you still got skills, right?"

"Bring it on," she replies, laughing. "So I understand not wanting to go to school. I really do. But you have an XO and a strategist at your branch that can help you. These men want you to succeed, so ask them for help. Besides, you want to make the point to your boys that education is important, right?"

She's got me there. I keep telling them not to be Daddy. Don't be hood. Get that paper. I been telling them stories about Javier and Jorge and I took 'em to meet them so they know that it can be done. You **can** leave the hood and be somebody. Music and drugs ain't the only way out. "Yeah, you got me there."

"OK, so prove it. I want to give you opportunities in the company. The lack of a degree isn't holding you back, but I need you polished and prepared. The company has partial tuition reimbursement, so we'll help pay for the degree. You get the GED and let Javi and Jorge find the right major for you. Something you can excel in and let them help you. I'm ready to place you in leadership if you can prove to me you're willing to hustle for it."

That's what she needs to see? I can do that. "You got it, Boss."

"Great. Anything I need to know about NYC?"

"I got five shanks waiting for some use. They needed?"

Giggles. "Nah. It's cool. I promise. I knew he'd do it and I was prepared. Tell the men to stand down."

Aight. As long as she's cool. "Aight, Boss, but don't forget, we ready to ride when you need us."

"I'll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Mack."

"Night, Boss." _Click_.

I stare at the phone. That was the oddest, realest call ever. I dial Thomas.

"Yo."

"Yo." Homie's in a club. I can hear the bass.

"Need to rap."

"Aight. Two." I wait. "Sup."

"You ain't gonna believe the call I just got off."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The Boss Lady called."

Silence. "Ms. Plum?"

"Yeah. Homie, you ain't gonna believe what she told me."

"We need to ride?"

"Nah, she said she's cool there. She said she knew he'd do that shit."

"OK. Then what happened?"

"She said that the XOs was suggesting I might be a good strategist. She want me to get that paper, a degree, man."

Thomas is silent on the other end. Thomas got his high school and an AA but no farther. "For real?"

"Yeah. You know the company will pay for me to get the degree?"

"Yeah. Partial tuition reimbursement. She seriously called you and said that?"

"Yeah." The line goes quiet. I think Thomas is as shocked as I was.

"Yo, McKinley." I can't believe homie just did that. He knows I hate my name. "If the CO is suggesting it, there's probably a bigger plan in place she wants you to be a part of. Go get a GED workbook and get on that. Talk to Javi and Jorge. They got Ivy degrees. They should be able to help you find the right college. With your background, I'd suggest a business major."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. And she told me to talk to Javi and Jorge."

"I know this is gonna sound funny, but the degree is a long range plan. You need to feel comfortable in front of clients now. Sounds like you need some training."

"Training?"

"Yeah. Like finishing school stuff."

"What the fuck?" I ain't a girl.

"Yeah. Like classes that teach all the business etiquette stuff, which fork to use, which glass to drink from. How to present business cards. How to dress, walk, and speak. That stuff."

Oh. Yeah, he's right. "Half the branch needs that."

"So float that up to Javi, especially since y'all got that business investigations group. They may need to go out to dinner with clients. Don't wanna look hood, so get everyone trained. Make that a branch thing."

I'm nodding and writing this down. This is all good stuff. "OK, I'll ask Javi about that."

The line is quiet, then, "OK, I'm asking you to pretend to be a strategist for a moment. Consider everything you know about what's going on in the company and determine why you think the CO called you out the blue with that."

I sit back and think. There's lots of shit going on right now. Men being moved all over the place and new branches . . . holy shit. New branches. They need strategists. "Well, OK, so here's what I'm thinking. You said Diego is probably gonna go to San Antonio as the XO, which means Miami will be down a strategist. San Antonio doesn't have a strategist and neither does Charlotte. So, there's three positions open with no candidates ready to move. So, maybe she's looking at moving me to one of the three?"

"That would be my guess. So, what's your next move?"

Shit. I'm grinning. Three open spots and the Boss Lady is calling me to get ready. "I'm talking to Jorge tomorrow about these business etiquette classes. He used to work Manhattan; he should know where to find someone to teach this. That's a start." I check the time. 8 p.m. I start looking for my shoes. "I'm headed out now to get a GED book. Stop by the office and check on the requirements to take it and get me a game plan. If Ms. Plum is looking for a few good men, I'mma be one."

Thomas laughs. "She got a good man, according to rumor. She needs a few good strategists. Thing you need to keep in mind: if you make it, it means you'll report to Lester too."

SHIT! That homie scares me.

Thomas laughs. "Yeah man, you said that out loud."

I'm still trying to locate my balls. Reporting to Lester? Jesus Christ! I could never slip. "Man, I don't know—"

"Don't do that, Mack. Don't start questioning yourself, cuz. Look, again, talk to Jorge. He already reports to Les. He could tell you what it's like."

I feel myself calming down. Yeah, he's right. Jorge left for the strategist week looking scared and came back happy as hell. Musta been good.

"Aight. I see what you mean. Gotta go. Got to get my GED on. Deuces." _Click_.

* * *

**Jorge's POV**

My phone always seems to ring during dinner. I put the wings down and wipe my fingers.

"Yo!" I can't believe that's my new hello.

"Yo! Jorge?"

"Ms. Plum?" I hear a growl and smile. "Hi, Steph."

"Thanks. You have a moment?"

"Sure. What do you need?" I reach for my folio and flip to a new page.

"Two things. One, I'm headed to Boston at the end of August and I would like you to accompany me."

I blink. Huh? "Sure. I've never done a management review but I know what they're supposed to be based on. What do you need me to do?"

"I want you to go through Boston's client services offerings with a fine-tooth comb."

I write a note. "Am I looking for anything in particular?"

A sigh. "Get comfy, Jorge. Let me tell you what they've been up to." I stretch out on my couch and wait. "Hal ran a psyop on Boston while Maria was there. He got Maria to drop bits of disinformation about my plans and the state of the company on Boston in order to make them panic and get more information on what they were doing. Maria passed everything back to me. You know that Atlanta and Trenton have been offering Hospitality services, right?"

"Yes." Javi wants in on that and I've told him to hold back. We're making more money with the investigations stuff than we can really handle. Ram asked for permission to poach in NYC territory and I agreed. Better RangeMan get the money than someone else, even if NYC isn't the branch personally providing the services.

"Well, before I offered it to Trenton, I offered it to Boston. Mark declined it, but once Maria let it be known that Trenton and Atlanta were about to knock him from number one, he went after contracts for it without my knowledge or approval."

Holy shit. The man must be insane. I'd never be so stupid. Javi would **never** be so stupid. "His Core Team couldn't pull him back? I mean, I'd never allow Javi to do something so foolish. He wouldn't be able to get me to cosign that for all the tea in China."

Another sigh. "Which is why Rod and Pat are in the shit with me. Senior management has already failed the review, so you don't have to review them, but you're doing an amazing job in client services and as a strategist. I need someone sharp to go through all their contracts and all their offerings and tell me what they're up to while I review everything else. Also, you've never seen the Boston office and, until recently, they were the most well-run, efficient office in the company. I want you to see that. Finally, Boston and Trenton are the closest offices to you. You need to get to know the men in Boston and this is a perfect opportunity."

I'm writing notes and smiling. Ms. Plum is a brilliant woman and if I'm pleasing her, then I'm happy. Lester is happy with my work. I'm happy.

"I know that you have your daughter on weekends, right?"

"Right." Again, how does she know that?

"OK. So I'd like to leave after you pass your daughter back to her mother. I don't want to take any time from you there.

RangeMan brotherhood is a wonderful thing. Never before have I worked in a company that has made it so blatantly clear that family comes first. Makes it so easy to continue to be loyal.

"My visitation ends Sunday nights at 5p.m., so if you want to meet at the NYC office at 6p.m., I'll be there."

"OK. Well, it takes four hours to get to the Boston offices from the NYC offices, so I'll drive to NYC and meet you by 6p.m. and we'll drive on to Boston."

Hmm … that's lost productivity time. "Can I make a suggestion?"

"Shoot."

"Let's take the train."

"Huh?"

"Amtrak. I know people don't give it a lot of love, but I love Amtrak. You can take the train from Trenton to Penn Station and I'll catch you at Penn Station and we ride into Boston. That way, neither of us has to drive, the train serves food, and we'll have an internet connection the entire way."

There's silence on the other end, then, "That's why you're the strategist. That's a brilliant idea. I like trains. I used to take one to Newark everyday when I worked as a buyer."

I'm already looking at the schedules on my computer. "How long do you want to stay?"

"Ten days, leaving Wednesday or Thursday."

"OK, yeah the schedules work out perfectly. Even business class all the way is $400 for the both of us. We'd pay that much in gas."

Laughter. "Not quite that much, but yeah, good call. OK, Amtrak it is."

"Great! Ever had a Krispy Kreme?"

"A what?"

I grin. "The world's best doughnut. A calorie bomb. A diet nightmare. Since it's just you and me, I'll sneak you one. The only Krispy Kreme outlet in all of New York City just happens to be in Penn Station on the Amtrak Level."

"Jorge, you are hyping this doughnut up to mythic proportions. Can it live up to it?"

I grin. "Stephanie Plum, this doughnut is so good I can only eat them once a year. They've ruined me for all other doughnuts. I've heard you're a connoisseur. Bakery shop as a teenager, right?"

"Yeah. Jorge, I'm already intrigued."

I write a note to get Ms. Plum half a dozen and call Ella to make sure it's counted in her diet.

"OK, second thing I called about. Business etiquette classes for NYC."

"I'm already ahead of you there. A client wanted to meet with the team we sent to Nevada, to discuss what they saw, but the report was so comprehensive that they decided they didn't need it. I talked to Javi about that and I'm scoping out companies that can come teach that class to our guys. I'm not ashamed of the men I work with but I don't want anyone putting them down."

"That's wonderful," Steph says quietly. "That's exactly what I hoped for. I'm calling about a particular person. Mack."

"Mack?"

"Yeah. More than one XO here thinks he might be a good man to be a strategist. We have more branches coming up than we have people ready to slot into the roles. I don't want to take anything away from NYC, but I need men."

I'm quiet. Mack is outstanding and I'd hate to lose him. He understands the streets like no one else and he's quick to uphold my authority, and Javi's, within his group– actually, across the entire branch. The men know that to question me will lead to painful time on the mats with Mack so they're learning to follow until I get some mat skills. I appreciate having a second in command like him.

"I gotta admit, I'll hate to lose him, but if I'm fair then I have to admit that he's really taken charge of the street stuff. Now that he understands the math, I can't keep the men from passing up info. And Mack is quick to uphold my authority, not just within Client Services but within the branch as a whole. The men know that I'm shit on the mats right now, but they won't step to me because it's curtains if Mack hears about it and he **always** hears about it."

I hear Steph laugh on the other side. "The Hector effect. I completely understand and I'm glad to hear it. So yes, I asked him what would make him comfortable in front of clients and he confessed he doesn't have a high school diploma. I encouraged him to get a GED and start college, but I couldn't think of a polite way to suggest some etiquette training. I'm leaving that on you. Help him get comfortable, even if it's just taking him with you on business lunches and dinners and letting him watch what happens. So he starts to understand and gets comfortable with the idea. You're already doing that with the guys he introduced you to from the athletic league, right?"

I nod and write notes. I like it and, although I'm not sure how I'm going to bring this up with Mack, I love that she left the man his pride. "Yeah. I can do that. I mean, I didn't think about it until just now, but we have two branches that need strategists."

"Exactly. San Antonio will probably be more active stuff and Charlotte will be more a mini-NYC or mini-Atlanta. There are a lot of financial services companies there. I want him to decide where he's comfortable, if I decide to offer him a position."

"OK. I'll prep for both of these requests. Anything else?"

"Nope. I think that covers it. Thanks, Jorge."

"Thank you, Steph." _Click_.

* * *

I'm in my office at 0800. Mack is waiting for me.

"Yo, Jorge, need to rap to you, man."

"Talk to me," I whisper quietly. "You need to talk to me."

Mack looks confused, then red. "Right. I need to talk to you, sir."

I smile and allow him to precede me into my office. I close the door. "I got a call from Ms. Plum last night too, man. Congratulations. I also think you'd be a great strategist."

Mack smiles. "For real?" I nod. "Thanks. So, she tell you I want to work on getting that paper?" He stops, rethinks the sentence. "I want to work on getting my high school diploma and start on a college degree."

I chuckle. "Yeah, she told me." I motion to a chair. "I had an idea a few days ago that I think will benefit you more in the short term, but I think you would enjoy business classes and maybe even criminal justice. We'll look into it, but let's rap short term." I sit and motion for him to take a seat. He grins. "We had a client who wanted to meet with our business investigations team at the end of the investigation. Thankfully, we packaged the information so well that it was unnecessary, but I've been looking into getting an etiquette consultant here to do some classes for the branch. Are you interested?"

Mack looks thrilled, although he's hiding it pretty well. "Man, are you kidding? That's what I was gonna suggest to you. That would be major!"

I laugh. "Great. I want to be clear: I'm not ashamed of **any** of the men I work with, but I'll be damned if someone puts you guys down. I know that Javi considers it part of his job to ensure that we have everything needed to do our jobs, and I've told him that I consider this a new function of these new jobs. So, if I can get the consultant here, you want to be part of the classes?"

Mack looks solemn. "Jorge, I was willing to pay for this myself, just to make sure I got this training. You schedule it and I'll be here."

"Good." I write some notes. "Second thing I need to discuss with you. Ms. Plum wants me to accompany her to Boston for 10 days at the end of the month." Mack nods. "Since you're my second in command, it means you'll have point in the office again. I'm telling you so you can prepare."

"OK. Anything I need to know?"

"I'll go through the calendar with you so you're ready. I think we'll have three teams coming back with their investigation results, so you may end up in front of clients." I look up at Mack, who looks nervous. "Like I said, I think you would be an excellent strategist. I'm still trying to learn everything about the job, but I'm suggesting a trade." Mack leans forward. "You teach me that street work, I'll show you the high finance stuff. I suck with the street work and we both know it."

"Yeah, I can't see you sharpening shanks for nothing."

"Don't be so quick to think that. I spent my childhood in Tremont." I open my desk drawer and pull a letter opener and a box cutter. Mack looks shocked. "My parents didn't play about guns but I didn't survive by chance. Javi has a letter opener in his desk too, and in his personal car. My first thought when I learned about Shane was that he wouldn't survive me in a dark alley."

Mack sits back, eyebrow raised. "Nice. I been underestimating you."

"Most do. Don't let the smooth taste fool you."

Mack looks at me closely and laughs. "Seriously? King Cobra?"

We look at each other and laugh. He extends his hand and we shake.

"Don't let the smooth taste fool you."

* * *

**A/N: Don't ask me how I know about that Krispy Kreme outlet. Let's just say it was the loudest, happiest scream this southern girl has ever screamed in public.**

**Also, if you don't understand the 'King Cobra' reference: King Cobra is a malt liquor, highly popular in the 80s, especially in minority neighborhoods. The tag line was: 'Don't let the smooth taste fool you' and it immediately became a hit catchphrase, a cool way of saying 'Don't fall for outward appearances'. So, Jorge was reminding Mack not to fall for outward appearances where he and Javi were concerned. They grew up in the hood. They might not know how to take men down on the mats, but they know how to strike to kill in the streets. You can search YouTube for the commercials (with Fred Williamson); they're hilarious.**


	33. This Sht is Real

**Chapter 69.5: This Shit is Real**

**Manny's POV—Baltimore, MD, Thursday**

Today's fishing session is probably my most dangerous. Juana Baez is an ex-girlfriend of mine, the only time I ever mixed the job with my personal life. She works in Major Crimes. I saved her life, twice, and it wasn't a _bad_ breakup, so she was happy to hear from me.

Every time I see her again, I wonder why we broke up. Juana is 34, my age, with long brown hair and brown eyes. Coke bottle shape that looks good in everything she wears. Everything about her turns me on. We loved each other, had fun, shared the same interests, and our families got along. We were the perfect couple. Oh. Right. That was the problem. Juana wants someone who adores her, worships her, and lives only to cater to her every whim. I want a woman a little more independent. My salary (at the time) did not support Juana's preferred lifestyle. When I moved to Jersey, that was the end. Trenton was not the place she wanted to be. Oh well. It was wonderful while it lasted.

"Manny!" We're at a sidewalk café in a safer area of town. The Wire was not a storybook fantasy. We hug and I motion for her to sit.

"How's it going, Juana?"

She sighs. "I hate the Bureau. Simple shit takes a fucking miracle now. We're so concerned with terrorism that unless your warrant application has some sort of terrorism angle, good luck getting it approved in the next six weeks."

"Shit," I mutter. My instincts are ringing. Something's off. I cough twice, pound my chest and motion for her to take a menu.

"Otherwise? Eh," she says.

Ranger is about three tables over, in disguise (excellent disguise) and listening. I see him point a bug detector at her and widen his eyes. She's bugged. Great. We're both bugged.

"So what about you?" she asks, smiling broadly. "Still at RangeMan?"

I nod. "Yeah. Promoted."

"Wow!" She claps for me. "This calls for a toast. Sparkling or still?" She grins. She knows I'm not much of a drinker.

"Hey, let's get fancy. Soda!" We both laugh and check the menu. I'm still a little hurt that my ex decided she needed to be bugged to meet with me. Then again, I'm bugged to meet with her. This is insane.

"So, it's rare that I hear from you," she says, sitting back.

"Not really. It's been six months since the last time we spoke. It's about right."

She counts then sighs. "I stand corrected. It _is_ time for your semi-annual catch-up. So what's up? What do you want to know?"

"Same as usual. How's it going? How's the job? How's life?" I grin and sip my Sprite. I see Ranger raise an eyebrow from the corner of my eye.

"Same as usual there. Job's crazy. I was shot at again. No Manny to protect me this time, so I had to ensure I didn't blow my own head off."

She grins and I shake my head. Juana's terrible range scores were an open secret in the Bureau. She kept whining about not being promoted and that it was sexism keeping her back until the night I pointed out that she just barely scraped by the physical standards. We broke up for two months off that.

"My mom misses you," she says quietly, and I smile sadly. Mrs. Baez was desperate, _desperate_, for me to marry Juana and start pumping her full of babies. I didn't need the pressure. I loved Mrs. Baez, though. Great lady. "Since you're in Baltimore, you got time to come see her?"

Instincts are ringing hell no on this. It's a trap.

"Sorry. I'm really stopping here on the way to DC on behalf of my boss."

"Ranger?"

"Nah. Hal Linden. Ranger's on a mission. Overseas. Hal and I want to talk about more contracts for RangeMan Trenton with the Bureau and Homeland Security, so I have appointments starting at"–I glance at my watch–"1 p.m. to talk about it."

She nods slowly but I can still read her face. I've provided her with the information she wanted up front. That's what she was fishing for and now she can't follow up.

"You said you were promoted. What's your new title?"

"VP of Investigations and Bonds Enforcement at RangeMan Trenton."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Wow. Nice."

"Yeah." I nod at Ram, who is walking up. "This is my co-worker, Ramsay Sinclair. Ram, Juana Baez. Ram is the VP for Client Services at RangeMan Trenton."

The original plan was not to have Ram involved in this, but I need a shield. Ram has the actual title and Ranger decided that Ram needs to know. He's no idiot and he'll keep his mouth shut. All of Trenton Leadership knows the truth now, but Ram won't be involved as deeply as I am. Ram was briefed last night and sighed in relief. "Thanks for finally telling me, sir. I knew Manny knew something." He glared at me but I shrugged. The order came from Ranger. What could I do?

Ram takes a seat and orders water.

"So Ram, what's your background?"

He smiled and I can see that Juana is falling for the dimples like every woman who meets Ram. "Army. I'm a sniper."

"Shit," she mutters and I laugh.

"Juana's range scores sucked when I was in the Bureau."

"Thanks for telling him, Manny." She glares at me and Ram and I laugh.

Ram shrugs. "I'm good at what I do."

"Kill people?"

Want to piss Ram off? Insinuate he shoots indiscriminately. His face is cold and Juana realizes her mistake.

"Hit what I'm aiming for."

"Sorry."

He nods his acceptance of the apology. The table is quiet and I realize this is my opening. "So, what's hot in the Bureau? Nothing classified. Nothing you can't tell me." I grin. Just start talking. I'll lead you where I need you to go.

Juana starts telling me all the gossip. Adultery, cheats, liars, interesting cases she's working, stuff I'm cataloging away for later.

"The biggest thing right now is what's going on with your boss."

Ram and I look at each other. "Hal?" Ram asks cautiously. "Or Ranger?"

"Ranger," she replies, sipping her soda.

"What do you mean, what's going on with him?" I ask, frowning. "He's overseas. I told you that already."

She snorts. "Yeah, but I don't buy it. No one does." She looks at me. "I'm not calling you a liar, Manny, because you might not know, but in the past six months almost fifteen agents have been removed from ICE. There's a sting going. We know it and the only man who could come up with that kind of info is your boss. Everyone else has been eliminated. Everyone out there has been examined and accounted for. Your boss is the only man left. Your boss is so good he's too good."

Shit. I purposely don't look at Ranger.

"So, say I'm wrong and Ranger is stateside and running a sting. Who's he targeting and why?"

Juana looks deep into my eyes for a few minutes. She glances at Ram. Her shoulders slump. "The rumor goes that there are dirty federal agents." At the same time she's writing on a napkin _I'm wired. The Bureau found it odd you wanted to speak to me. They're curious._ "Everyone who's been arrested has been linked with gangs in some way or another. It's assumed that your boss is involved."

Ram snorts. "Ranger hates stateside assignments. He has enough enemies. Domestics are inconvenient. They need to keep looking."

Juana looks at him and sighs. "The next guys most likely to be involved have other assignments."

Ram shrugs. "Ranger's good. Hell, he's the best. But there are two things I know about him." Juana leans forward. "One: he hates domestic assignments. Two: Ranger doesn't lie to his men. He may avoid answering, but he does not lie to us." Ram sits back and sips his water. "Before Ranger, there was somebody. They'll be someone after him. They're using Ranger to avoid having to actually do their jobs and investigate other possibilities. End of story."

No one can shut down a conversation like Ram can. Plus, absolutely nothing Ram said was a lie. Ram's the best liar I know.

I nod at Juana. "Everything Ram said is true. Ranger does not lie to his employees. The man was a military commander. You don't get the absolutely loyalty from your men that Ranger has if you lie to them."

I see Ram nod at his watch. Ranger disappears while I call for the check and kiss Juana. "Take care of yourself, Juana."

"You too, Manny."

I escort Juana to her car and join Ram in our SUV. Ranger is lying on the floor in the back. He scans us both before pulling something off my back. Juana slid a tiny microphone under my suit collar when she hugged me. I shake my head. Damn. He motions for us to continue our bullshit conversation while he writes notes. Ram is driving and he passes the notes Ranger wrote earlier.

_She knows more than she's telling._ This is true. _You need to meet with her again. Catch her off guard but be careful. You see that she's willing to bug you. Hector checked. She's on probation within the Bureau. Without you there to cover her ass, she sank fast._ I clench my jaw and write a note back.

_How did Hector find out? The FBI just put in a new computer system._

_HAHAHAHAHAHA! You mean Sentinel? Hector says it's the easiest thing in the world to crack. $30 million in cost overruns, years overdue, even after 9/11 it's pathetic. It's child's play. The world's best hackers are waiting for them to actually make it worth cracking._

Fuck you, Hector. I still have some loyalty to my former employers.

_Then why send us in? Why not have Hector crack the damn thing?_

_It's so shitty the agents are still keeping a paper record, that's why. Hector gets everything he can out of there but there's not much in there. That's why you are very necessary, my friend._

I smile. Ranger motions for us to let him off at the Metro station so he can catch a train back to his car while we continue on to DC.

* * *

"Who is it?"

"Manny."

Juana opens the door and her eyes widen. "Manny! I didn't expect you here."

"Bad time?"

"No. Come in." She opens the door and lets me in. Pepé, her dog, comes over and sniffs me, then tries to mount my leg. Nothing's changed there. I pick him up and let him lick my face.

"Good to see you too, Pepé." I put him back down and Juana hands me a washcloth, smiling. I wipe my face, then kiss her. She drops the robe and I'm sincerely hoping Ram and Ranger have something else to do.

"Juana . . . "

"Yeah, I know you want to talk about something. You want me to talk? Fuck me. I miss your hands." She grins wickedly. "And your tongue. And your dick. And judging from what I see, you've missed me."

I've missed you more than you know. It's been a while. Well, I guess I'm taking one for the team. I hope Ram and Ranger aren't listening to this part.

Three hours later, I finally roll off her and smile. Talk about making a man feel like the big dog! My tongue game still reigns supreme and she hasn't lost her moves either. Yeah, sex after her has not been as good as sex with her. She cuddles back under me and starts stroking again. Jesus! How long has it been for her?

"Ok, what do you want to know?"

"What's really going on, Juana? Why on earth is someone bugging you?"

She sighs. "The order has gone out from on high. Anyone with a connection to RangeMan, no matter how tenuous, has to be bugged when meeting with them. The last snatch and grab caught four of our agents. The Bureau is stunned because whoever did the detective work sent in iron-clad information. All legally obtained, warrant applications, followed correct procedures, it's clean. The only thing missing is the agent's actual name because it's an ongoing investigation. No one knows who Juan Ernesto Aguilar is and it's driving everyone insane because it's clearly an alias."

She swings a slim thigh over my waist and leans forward. My hands are behind my head and I'm thinking fast. Juana liked to ride while talking and she's back up on me. Giddyup, cowgirl. I slide my tongue over her nipple and watch her shudder. Juana starts talking, everything she knows about a case she's working. I can't understand why she's telling me about this particular case, but I listen anyway.

"Manuel …"

I chuckle. I still got it. Maybe we can try again? I miss her.

She's bouncing a bit faster now and I put my hands on her waist to steady her. "Juana." I'm panting. "Do I need to put protection around you?" Jesus help me. She's grinding and squeezing and I'm gonna bust soon.

"Nooooo …" She comes and I flip her onto her back to thrust through to my finish. The moment I open my eyes, I get a shock that deflates me fast.

A camera. Light blinking. We're being watched.

"Manny?"

Do I ask? Does she know? No. I know she doesn't like being recorded. She's paranoid about that. No one wants to be the next Internet porn start by accident.

"Manuel?"

I kiss her and pull her back onto my chest. "There's a camera next to your dresser," I whisper.

I feel her freeze on top of me and swallow hard. "OK, maybe I do need help."

I nod. "Slip into your robe. I'm going to slip into my clothes. Keep it light."

She nods and slips from the bed. I slip out of the bed, stretch (hey, you wanted a good look at my dick. Here it is, boys. I toss the condom toward the wastebasket carelessly and it ends up on top of the camera. Score!), and slip into my boxers. I kick the rest of my clothes into her kitchen and slip into them. She's in her robe and tennis shoes. I send a quick text to Ram, telling him to get here ASAP. I turn and Juana has the ice cream out. We feed each other ice cream until my phone beeps. I grab my things, Juana grabs her purse, and we walk out of the door.

Directly into an ambush.

The gunshots start immediately and I push Juana back indoors and lock the door. I caught one to the arm and one to the leg, I know. Juana was grazed and I pick her up and run straight back to her bedroom and barricade us in. I dial Ram.

"Yo!"

"Yo. At least four shooters." The front door has to be gone at this point. I have both of my guns and two extra clips but we're dead if her front door doesn't hold.

"Shit!"

"Yeah."

"I see 'em. He's with me. We got it. Hold there." _Click_. I hear the six single gunshots. Ram and Ranger don't waste bullets.

I turn and look at Juana. Her face is pale. "Pack a bag."

She grabs a suitcase and starts packing as much as she can. I see the bullet in my leg, so I head to the bathroom and dig through Juana's medicine cabinet to find the tweezers. I dig the projectile out carefully and put it into a baggie. I'm hoping the arm is a through and through. I check on Juana.

She's lying on the bed, not moving. I run over. "Juana! Juana!" I check her carefully and find a bullet in her leg. Close to the femoral. I check the pulse. Weak. Juana grasps my hands.

"James White. My ex-boyfriend. Manny . . . "

"Juana, it will be OK . . ." I'm dialing 911 and she's looking panicked and scared.

"James White, Manny." Her eyes close.

"Juana! Juana! Don't close your eyes." No. No! Fuck, there has to be a solution. There has to be a way to save her! I've saved her every time. I can't fail this time. I start CPR to keep her heart pumping. I hear the sirens in the distance and I know that the cops and ambulances are on their way but I'll have her fixed before they get here. I've always had her back.

I've always saved her.

* * *

I'm sitting on the sofa when Ram walks in. The police and FBI are stomping around the place and I've said nothing. The ambulance was trying to save her as they wheeled her out. I'm still staring at the remainder of the front door.

"The RangeMan lawyers are on the way," he says quietly.

I nod.

"The CPR was good. They're working on her." He squats down in front of me. "You have to believe she'll be OK, Manny."

I nod.

Ram rises and sits next to me on the couch. He hands me a bottle of water. "He and Hector have the shooters. They won't survive."

I nod.

I see some of my former co-workers walk in and stop cold at the sight of me. I'm rumpled, dry-eyed, bloodshot eyes and stubble. I've gained another decade overnight. A stray bullet caught Pepé. For some reason, that's just the cherry on this fucked-up situation.

Which of you fuckers was watching me fuck her, huh? If you weren't dirty you wouldn't be so fucking nervous.

Each nods at me before moving to consult with the cops. I'm the only witness to the shooting. I've handed over my guns, but the fact that they weren't fired cleared me automatically. That and the fact that I was shot too. The officer in charge walks over with my guns and Ram takes them with a nod.

"Mr. Sanchez has had a trying night. We'd like to leave. If you have questions, we'll make ourselves available." He hands over his card and takes me by the arm. I'm standing just as one man walks in and makes a beeline for me.

"James White."

I look at him. 5'10", Hispanic, black hair and eyes. His eyes burn the same hatred for me as mine do for him.

"My girlfriend, so what were you doing here?"

"My business with your ex girl is none of your business."

His nostrils flare. "My girlfriend's been shot, her dog is dead, you have gunshot wounds, all this shit makes it my business."

The room is quiet and everyone is watching us. I step over to him. "I don't give a fuck about your pride. Tonight is not the night to fuck with me," I whisper in his ear.

"Manny." Ram.

I walk out of the door.

* * *

I'm in my apartment at RangeMan. Ranger's orders. Everyone is steering clear of me. I called for the update on Juana. She's still touch and go. They combed her apartment and found cameras all over the place. Well, I hope I gave a good show. My tongue game still reigns supreme.

This is beer number four. There's a knock at the door and Wifey walks in. She takes in my appearance and my bloodshot eyes and I see the tears in her eyes. I swallow and flip the comforter back for her. She grabs a beer and slips into the bed next to me.

"I'm sorry."

I nod. "How was the beach?" She just got back tonight.

She shakes her head. "You were there. You know." We sit in silence for a while. "Tell me about her."

I don't speak for a long time. "I hated Pepé." She chuckles. "Damn dog always sniffed my crotch when he could and she loved having him sleep with us. I couldn't stand it."

"What kind of dog was he?"

"Maltese mix." I swig the beer. "I might have married her but we couldn't agree on simple shit. Where to live, what to have for dinner, kids or no. Simple stuff." Wifey leans her head on my shoulder. "But it's not simple stuff and I eventually realized it. She wanted someone to adore her and I wasn't that man. Only now I realize that I was wrong. It's not wrong to want someone to show you that they love you, but I was stupid. Headstrong. I wanted her to grow up. I'm not Disney."

I roll the beer back and forth between my palms. "She loved Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid. You kidding me? He's the one I hate most. Falls in love with a mute, naked girl on the beach and decides to put a ring on it." I snort. "There's a marriage meant to last. I mean, he knows nothing about this chick. Is she smart? Funny? Dependable? Does she love me? Do I love her? What does he know about her? No family, can't speak, combs her hair with a fork, but banging body so hey! Lemme follow my dick on this one."

Wifey laughs into my shoulder and I shake my head. "I've always been a realist. I loved her for her independence and her mind and yeah, I'll admit, the body kept me hot, but I wanted her to be a little more realistic." I blow out a breath to keep the tears at bay. "She wanted babies, as soon as we married. Wanted to move to Montgomery County and buy a house. I still couldn't afford the kind of house she wanted there on my current RangeMan salary.

She wanted the stereotypical white picket fence with 2.5 kids and Mommy and Daddy and I want that too, but when I started asking questions about how we were going to make that work with two FBI careers and competing schedules, she didn't want to hear that. We'd get nannies or the grandmas would move in. We'd both continue to move up the Bureau ladder, even with the babies and the dog and the house.

I got a great offer for the LA branch and I turned it down because she hated LA. That was killing the dream. That was _mean_, asking those questions. It would happen. That's what she wanted so we finally broke up. My high school sweetheart, 15 years since I asked her to 10th grade prom, and I finally called it quits."

I look at Wifey, who looks pale and her eyes are wide. I'm sure I don't want to know and I **know** I'm not going to ask. I drain the beer and she hands me another. Beer number five. I should be out soon. That'll stop my motor mouth.

"We made sense in bed. Oh god, did we make sense in bed." I smile. The memories are making me hard even now. "But out of bed was a constant struggle. We were best friends who liked to fuck because neither of us could bend. If one of us gave even a little ground, the other immediately started pushing for everything." I open the beer and start drinking. God please let me pass out soon. "I got a great offer in the Jersey Bureau office and decided not to make that my second LA. I moved to Jersey then took this job, hoping that it would be the push to get her to come with me. Failed. Completely. And she was right to resist. It wasn't what she wanted and I couldn't make her want that."

"If you could do it all over again?" Wifey asks quietly.

"I don't play what if's. Most dangerous game in the world. You work with the hand you were dealt and keep moving forward. We might have made it someday but not anytime soon. I wasn't leaving New Jersey. She wasn't leaving the Bureau."

We're quiet. I'm still thinking of Juana's face when she told me James's name. Those were her last words. She knew much more than she was letting on.

"You've made an enemy," Wifey whispers.

I snort. "You see my file?" She shakes her head. "Nearly the size of yours. I have the third thickest file in RangeMan Trenton."

Wifey looks at me wide-eyed and I nod. "You, Hector, then me. My work as a feeb meant I stacked up enemies."

Wifey huffs. "Does anyone in this building not have enemies?"

"Ella." I swig my beer.

Wifey snorts. "Miami."

We laugh.

* * *

"I need you to stay low-key for a while."

I clench my jaw and loosen my grip on the phone. I fucked up.

"No, you have not fucked up, Manny. You've done extremely well, but the woman you love was nearly murdered. As it is, she's developed an infection. I've arranged for a guard around Juana that takes orders only from me. She's as safe as she can be, short of you hovering over her bed."

I chuckle mirthlessly. Thank you, Ranger. This is why you have my complete loyalty, sir.

"You have gunshot wounds to heal from, so let that be one less worry for you. In the meantime, you've managed to get me excellent info, as usual. Of course, I have to skip three hours of tape to hear it …"

The first laugh I've had in hours. Thanks, sir.

"Ram enjoyed listening to the entire thing. He was cheering you on. Want to do me a favor? Get **him** laid."

I lie back and laugh hard. "Connie wants him bad."

"Keep Ram out of her bed. He can't handle that." Ranger has suspect humor but when he's on, he's ON. "I'm sorry she's mixed up in this, Manny," Ranger says quietly.

"So am I, sir, but her decision to get involved was before me. Now, the best thing I can do is bring her shooters to justice."

"Glad you feel that way. Hector will need some help when he's ready to 'interview'." Torture. Good. "So far, we know they're all MS-13, so we're already a leg up."

"Then I'll make sure we get over the fence, sir." _Click._

* * *

**Manny's POV, Sunday Night**

It's been a week of highs and lows. Everyone is treating me like normal and those who know what happened (few and far between) have all given me a quiet word of sympathy.

My phone call to Mrs. Baez was miserable. She sobbed the entire time but she wanted to talk to me in person. Her daughter gave me some info to pass along so I slid back down to Baltimore this morning to see her. She sobbed at the sight of me but welcomed me into her home and hugged me tight.

"Manuel, Juana loves you," she said, crying. "She always hoped you two would find your way back to each other."

I nodded, throat tight. "I love her too, Mrs. Baez. I always will." I waved to the family, who all hugged me. James White looked furious to see the outpouring of love for me. I'm being treated like the husband and they all clearly hate him.

She wiped her eyes and motioned for me to follow her to her bedroom. Once inside, she started digging in her closet. "Here. Juana gave me this about a month ago. She said that if anything ever happened to her, to get this to you ASAP."

I opened the box and there was a folder and a stack of CDs, at least 25, and DVDs too. I was betting we had just cracked this case wide open. I opened the folder and my eyes widened.

Juana was doing research on someone. MS-13 from California. Moved to Texas, disappeared into thin air. She was trying to find him for some reason. This was the case she was talking about. I can't wait to dig into it. There was a knock at the door and I moved to block it. Good move; White was on the other side. He glared at me.

"The family is looking for Mrs. Baez."

She glared at him. "No they aren't. They know I'm speaking to Manuel. You go away. I hate you and since Juana's no longer around I don't have to be nice to you. Leave my home."

His jaw clenched. "I love your daughter. I'm willing to marry her. I've been here. He ran away."

Mrs. Baez snorted. "They were together for a decade. You were six months. I know he loved her. You might have just been using my daughter. Go away! Now!"

Juana's brother Martin escorted White away. I hugged Mrs. Baez. "Whatever happened, I won't rest until it's solved."

She smiled, shakily. "I know you won't." She kissed both cheeks. "Fall in love again. I'll be happy to meet your firstborn whenever it happens. When she gets out the hospital, you'll get started on that, right?"

I smiled. The baby pressure I ran away from for years and right now, I'd do my best to knock Juana up if she were ready. Depressing.

I carefully repacked the box and headed back to my car. White was there watching me like a hawk. I waved to the rest of the family and pulled off. Halfway home, the inevitable happened.

_Pop pop pop!_

Gunshots. I expected it, which is why I'm in a RangeMan vehicle. Non-shred, non-deflate tires, shatterproof windows, the works. I hit the left lane and called for backup. Junior, Hector, Ram, and Binkie were all waiting in Wilmington and they swung behind my attackers. I could tell when Ram got a hit. There was a lovely explosion.

RangeMan. We don't have high powered weaponry for nothing.

15 minutes later I was clear. The guys were behind me, but they put some distance between us, just in case someone else wanted to take a chance. No one did. Highway patrol was busy for hours, according to the news reports. I called back to Mrs. Baez, asked if White was still there. Yes, he was. Damn. I thought it might be him.

I returned to RangeMan and texted Ranger that Juana was doing her own research. It looked like what she had might blow this thing wide open, but I'd review and let him know. He told me to take my time.

That's all I have, Ranger. Time. She's still fighting the infection.

* * *

**Steph's POV—Thursday Night (Before Chapter 71)**

My clearance starts tomorrow but I'm more concerned about Manny than anything else. Juana is still in the hospital and is extremely weak, but she's awake and responding. Everyone here at RMTrenton is thrilled. He's been talking to her, by phone, every day, just so she can hear his voice. I told him to go to her but he has a project with Hector soon, to get more information about her attackers.

Her attackers. He's so focused on her that he completely disregards the fact that he was shot too.

I told him to leave after that 'project' and don't return for a week. That's an order. He smiled faintly and said, "Thanks, Wifey." I've asked Ella to go ahead and pack a bag for him. Hector said their little 'project' will be Sunday night, so I went back and told Manny that he needs to leave Trenton Monday. No excuses. Manny finally admitted that Ranger ordered him to Trenton to stay low key.

I had a fucking fit. No other way to put it.

"Get him on the line, Hector."

Hector merely stared at me. I must have look deranged because he sighed and texted Ranger. Three minutes later, the phone rang.

"_Hermano?"_

"_No."_

"Babe?"

"How would you feel if Tank ordered you away from my side as I was lying in a hospital bed? Make something happen, Batman." _**Click**_.

Two hours later, Hector told Manny he had clearance to go to Baltimore.

Until Juana woke up today, I was sitting in his apartment with him each night while he drank and brooded. Ram forced him to exercise and get in the gun range each day. Hal attempted to force him to eat and Ella's been making Manny's favorite dishes to tempt him. He was picking at it but we thanked God for Candy today. She picked up his meal from the break room and took it to his office. No idea what she said to him but she returned with clean plates. When I asked her, she told us—me, Ram, Hal, and Ella—that she simply reminded him that if he wanted to be by Juana's bedside, he'd have to eat. She then waited for him to finish every mouthful before slipping him the bread pudding Ella made for him.

The news about Juana came three hours later. He devoured dinner.

Hector was pulling him onto the mats each day for hand to hand. Manny's been vicious on the mats lately and the men were concerned but Hector grinned and taunted him each time. Manny looked ready to kill Hector on day one but Ella told me not to interfere.

"He needs that, _cariña_. He needs to release his anger and frustration and fear. Hector is giving him a target. Hector knows what he's doing," Ella said softly. She and I were sitting in front of my monitor, watching the mats session in the gym the second morning. I was ready to go break it up then. She smiled at me, sadly. "The Leadership Core does this for each other often. It's the best way, besides the gun range, for Manny to release anger and tension."

I sighed and sat back. Trenton Leadership forced their brother to live.

* * *

For the first time, I'm looking at my relationship with Ranger from a RangeMan's point of view. If Ranger ever acts like this when I'm shot, I'm stunned and grateful the men don't hate me. I'm grateful Bobby, Lester, and Tank don't hate me. I hate that Juana was shot, but watching Manny get drunk and try not to cry in his apartment showed me the other side of my disasters. I was pissed when Hector was hurt but, for some reason, it hurts even more watching Manny sit in his apartment and brood. He loves her and he's scared and worried. He's angry because he can't kill her attackers and Ranger's put Manny in a safe house position when he wants to go find the people who hurt Juana.

Even worse? Juana is still in the hospital. Something called SIRS. I called Louise Malinkowski at St. Francis to find out what that was. A serious infection, she said, but with prompt attention everything should be fine. Treatment is a weeklong ICU stay and major antibiotics for the patient. Maybe a few more days just to make sure everything is OK. She started asking lots of nosy questions to find out why I was asking so I thanked her and hung up.

I thought back to all the times I've been shot, shot at, or hospitalized and realized that Ranger and Joe had it just as bad. I know Joe was worried each time I was shot. I know Ranger spent nights sitting in the chair in my apartment, watching me sleep. The moment Manny said he wanted to put Juana under guard here in Trenton, the moment she's released from the hospital, my first thought was, 'Great! I'll clear out an apartment myself if I have to'.

I was shocked by my own thought. I was willing to put someone in a safe house for their own safety, regardless of what they thought. I couldn't believe it. I've truly become Ranger and that's uncomfortable.

When Manny talked about his relationship with Juana, I felt as if he was talking about both me and Joe and me and Ranger. Especially me and Joe. Again, Ella's list is invaluable. I left Manny that night and pulled it out to read again. Listening to Manny, I realized I need to make sure I was clear and realistic. Juana wasn't realistic. She had the dreams but no idea how to make them reality. I know Ranger will work to make my dreams a reality so I need to make sure they make sense. I don't want Ranger to feel like Manny clearly does: a failure because he couldn't give the woman he loved what she wanted. He feels he failed her and even now it hurts him.

It hurt hearing him talk about it. I heard his pain and realized that even though they broke up at least four or five years ago, he's still in love with her. He still keeps in touch with her. He still visits her. I've never thought about how that feels but now I see it clearly. Manny looks a wreck but RangeMan brotherhood is covering for him. Ram took all his client calls so he wouldn't have to worry. Jorge arrives tomorrow to pitch in. "Payback," he says, for all the help Manny gave him when he was brand new. I know that Jorge doesn't know anything about what's going on, but he and Ram are working Trenton's contacts to keep the branch afloat. Zip's picked up any Bonds Enforcement and Investigations slack to ensure everything is being covered there.

The RangeMan brotherhood is praying for Juana's full recovery. Anything less and Manny will not be the same.

* * *

**Manny's POV—Sunday Night, one week later** (Timeline, between Chapters 71 & 72 )

Hector's a sadistic bastard, but I'm matching him tonight. I need info and I'm not in any mood to be toyed with. Juana had trouble breathing today and she was confused at the sight of her mother.

"_You're working for?"_

"_Fuck you."_ _Slice. Scream. _Hector's having fun. So am I.

"_You're working for?"_

"_Fuck you."_ Another punch to the kidneys. They keep it up and waterboarding is next. We keep going for two hours but MS-13 is hard to break, until . . .

I found the sister of one of the men. She's young, preteen or early teens. Girlfriends aren't a good choice with gang members; they can watch their girl get raped and say nothing but family? They'll break for family. I stand her there and tell him he has a choice. Her or him. His eyes are calm until I unbuckle my belt. Then he swallows hard and looks scared. Her eyes are panicked. Hector gets started.

"_You're working for?"_

"_Fuck you."_

I take the sister into another room and tell her I'm not a rapist but Hector? Well …I make no promises. If she wants to live, intact, she'll scream her ass off.

She screams.

"_You're working for?"_

"_Fuck you."_

She screams. I whisper for her to keep screaming. Hector slices five times before the man breaks.

"_Diego Mendoza."_

I motion for her to stop screaming. That's the name we wanted to hear.

"Who is he?" I ask. She's sobbing and collapsed into my arms, but she's not slick. I'm not taking the mask and hood off no matter how much she tugs at it. She shakes her head. She doesn't know. Hector asks his man the same question.

"_Dunno. He made like he was from Bay. He's definitely Sureño. They tryin' to take down a Bumblebee that's blocking progress. Two of 'em, really. One dropped his flag and the other is too powerful."_

OK. Bumblebee would be Latin Kings. One who dropped his flag? That must be Ranger. Or Hector. The powerful one is either Piman or Hector. Or Ranger. Shit. All three of them are tied in this but I'm sure Hector will definitely know if that's right.

"_And?"_

"_He's told everyone to chill for a minute. He's gotta clean out a new problem. He's pissed."_

"_What's the problem?"_

"_No one knows but he's furious. We've been told to chill. That's all we know."_

Hector walks in, covered in blood. He doesn't bother to cover himself. It increases his legend to be seen like this and it works. Girl in my arms faints. Hector smiles, faintly.

"_Your call,"_ he whispers.

"_You think you got everything?"_ Hector raises an eyebrow. He knows he hasn't. He could get the man to confess his dirtiest secrets right now because he's scared for his little sister. _"Get everything."_

Hector goes back and I listen over the next hour. Hector strips the man of every secret about the _Sureños_ in New Jersey that he has. We learn shit that stuns us and I set it aside for more thought later. Finally, Hector returns. He got everything and the sister is waking up.

"_Your brother may live,"_ Hector smirks. She's terrified right now. _"So, what did you do all night for him to be covered in blood like that?"_

She swallows hard.

"_You got caught in the rain because when he leaves here he'll be wet but clean. Got it?"_ She nods frantically.

"_Where were you?"_

"_Caught in the rain."_

"_Where?"_

"_NYC?" _she asks.

"_Who had you?"_

"_No one. We just got caught in the rain in NYC."_

Hector gives her a cold smile. _"As easy as it was for us to snatch both of you, that's how easy it will be for us to kill you if that story changes."_ She nods, terrified. Hector smiles faintly. He reaches out and holds her carotid for a moment and she passes out.

We clean up the snitch and put him and his sister on a bus back home. The rest will be dropped in the Pennsylvania woods, far from their Baltimore homes.

* * *

**Ranger's POV **(Timeline: End of Chapter 72)

I'm reviewing the work from Juana Baez. It's excellent stuff. She might have been shit in the field but she was a damn good investigator. She caught wind of a new gang member making a name for himself within MS-13. No one in the Bureau was giving it any notice, but she put the pieces together.

Sounds like my Babe.

Diego Mendoza was a _Sureño_ from East L.A. He was a BG (baby gangster) starting at 8, jumped in at 11, and did time in juvie starting at 13. He got out and at 15 he moved to Texas to live with family. He enlisted in the Army at 17 and even with his record, the Army took him. My record was nowhere near as extensive as his. I send in a request to get his service record and keep reviewing her info. After he enlisted, he disappeared from the map but popped up eight years later in DC, at the top of the pecking order. Juana was trying to figure out where he was in the meantime to gain that kind of clout.

I snort. He was being trained by the US Army, just as I was. Only difference? I put that shit behind me. Clearly, he didn't. In any case, he's become a serious player on the east coast and he may be my missing link. I start searching for contact between Mendoza and Knox but it's useless. There's nothing.

I lean back and sigh. This is the part of the job I hate. Hurry up and wait. Someone needs to make a mistake and soon.

I look at the latest video from Tank. Well, this should enliven my night much more.

* * *

**A/N: The information on Sentinel that Ranger is quoting is the information on Sentinel as of 2010. . . As of 2013, Sentinel is up and running at the low low price of ~$450 million. And not everything in the FBI is on it yet, but it did win an award in 2013.**

**Your (American) government at work, people. Info available on my website and my profile.**


	34. Girls Night Out, Part II

**A/N: Although I am occasionally kinda smart, I do miss the simple things (**_**cringe**_**). I keep forgetting you guys don't have my timeline. So I'm putting a sanitized version out there (can't give away secrets!) so you understand what's happening when. Check my profile for the link.**

* * *

**Chapter 69.7: Girls Night Out, Part II**

**Steph's POV—Saturday Night**

Honestly, I was more interested in getting some sleep this weekend, but ML and Connie insisted.

"You've been at the beach, surrounded by handsome, buff RangeMen for six weeks! Time for girl time!"

I still had no interest in going until Lula calls. "Steph! You coming out with us tonight?"

I yawn. "I was thinking of calling it a night."

"Damn. I was looking forward to showing you the ring."

I perk up. "Well, maybe a few minutes. What's the plan?"

"So far, dinner at that fancy ass place Tank took us to. We have big things to celebrate."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm getting married, you're blowing RangeMan up, Connie had a date—"

"Really?"

"A doctor, girl! She's excited."

I grin . "She's given up on Ram?"

"She says the RangeMen are too intense. Apparently, she's hot on Ram, and I can see why"–I laugh—"but you know. The Family . . . "

Yeah, good point. If they ever found out Ram was a sniper, they'd pressure him into becoming a hit man. A sniper with Special Forces training? That kind of skill would be too much for them to pass on and Ram would resist. Plus, RangeMan likes its men to cut ties to groups that might divide their loyalty. That would definitely be a conflict of interest.

Yeah, too much pressure there.

"What kind of doctor?"

"Cardiologist."

Jackpot! Congrats, Connie! "OK, I'm in. I definitely want to know how she met him." I'm looking around the apartment for my keys and jacket when I realize I'd have to take a RangeMan. Damn. My clearance can't start soon enough. "I'm going to have a RangeMan."

"I know. We know. Which one?"

"Don't know yet. I'll text you." _**Click**_.

I head down to the fifth floor. It's quiet tonight and Ram's on duty. He smiles as I approach. "Hey."

"Hey. I'm headed out. Girls night out."

A frown. "OK. You need an escort?"

I stare at him. Is this a trick question? "Have the rules changed?"

He chuckles. "Not really. If you're going somewhere public, we'll tail discreetly. If you're going to be somewhere private, like ML's or Connie's house, we're willing to leave you alone as long as you have your phone and trackers." I stare at Ram and he nods. "New protocol for the CO. As long as we're aware of where you are and you have the phone and trackers, we'll back off. It worked at the beach."

I text Connie to call ML and I'll call Lula. Let's get on a four-way and figure this out.

"Hey."

"Hey!"

"OK, what's the plan? My guys"—Ram grins—"are going to tail us if we go out in public but if we're in private, they'll leave us alone."

It's quiet for a moment before ML says, "Lula, you're moving in what? A month? Two weeks?"

"Yeah."

"You need help packing?"

"Oooh, yeah! I haven't even started thinking about how I'm gonna box this stuff up."

"Well, as someone who has moved twice in her life, I'll tell you: you can't start too early packing up. So how about we come over with boxes and help? We'll go out to dinner to celebrate then spend the night at your place, bring wine, and help you get started."

"I'm in," Connie says. "ML is right. We'll make this a girls' night in. You're getting married and, even though Steph and I are now divorced, you're going to be a married woman. All kinds of stuff you need to know."

We all laugh, although I'm wondering what I could possibly add to that discussion. Don't get too attached to your dining room table?

* * *

Woody won the draw. He disappeared from RangeMan and turned up 30 minutes later, freshly shaven and dressed down in jeans and a soft gray t-shirt. The cowboy boots and hat were a nice touch. Woody screams 'Texas' but he didn't want to move back and work from San Antonio. No good memories, he says. I haven't asked why.

We stop by ML's first, then Connie's and finally Lula's. We're hyped and this is the first time we've seen Lula in weeks.

She wasn't wearing Spandex. We nearly didn't recognize her.

"Lula, have you given up the stretchy stuff?" ML asks delicately. Connie and I try our best not to laugh but we can't help it. I can see Woody hiding a smile too.

"Nope," Lula answers, annoyed. "But hell, I'm gettin' married. I'm not in the streets anymore and I'm thinking of becoming a professional." She thinks about that for a moment. "I mean, doing a real professional job. Time to start dressin' like my new life."

We all nod . "You look great in the wrap dresses, Lula."

"Thanks! I gotta admit, I thought I looked old-fashioned, but something about these thangs gets Tank hot."

I see Woody cringe slightly. He looks over at me and flashes a quick grin. I'm sure I cringed slightly too. I love Tank. I'd prefer not to think of Tank getting 'hot' for any reason.

"And you were right, Steph. It was hot as hell in Texas and Louisiana. You could melt into a puddle standing still. That's why I kept buying 'em in Texas. I own like 20 of 'em now."

Connie and ML laugh. "Well, as someone who has to cover more than most, we'll go shopping and get some more sexy things that'll make Tank _hot_," Connie says.

Lula grins and she and Connie start talking about dresses and going shopping. ML leans forward. "Steph, you OK?" she asks quietly. I nod. "OK, you just don't seem like yourself right now."

I smile. I'm sure I don't. I've been thinking about Manny and worrying about him. I try to pay attention to the discussion in the back but I'm mentally elsewhere. We finally arrive at the restaurant and Woody stops out front to let everyone out. He touches my arm and shakes his head slightly. I sigh and sit back against the seat.

"Steph, you coming?" Lula asks.

"Yeah, I'll be with you guys in a moment. We'll park and join you."

"He driving. It don't take both of you to park."

"I look for parking spaces," I reply, a bit irritated. Complete lie. Parking spaces just magically appear for RangeMen. I'm completely useless here.

ML and Connie pull Lula into the restaurant, ML turning slightly to smile. Woody pulls off and heads around to the back.

"Thanks."

"No prob."

"Steph?"

"Hmm?"

"Stop." I look over at Woody, who looks grim. "You look like Ranger right now. Stop. Stop doing it." Woody slides into a parking space (right next to the back door. RangeMen. Parking spaces are _always_ available.) and turns the truck off. He turns to me, a small smile on his face.

"You're worried about Manny, you're tired after all the fun you had at the beach, and at some point you're going to start stressing over this clearance. Stop. For tonight, put all that in the back of your mind and enjoy time away with your girlfriends."

"I am—"

"You're not." He takes my hands and rubs them. "Somehow, Ranger would come back from vacations more tired than when he left." He smirks. "We learned to stay out of sight for a day or two."

I frown. "Is that why everyone is tip-toeing around me?" Woody laughs and I roll my eyes. "Great, let's tip away from the emotional woman instead of asking her what's wrong."

Woody stops laughing and looks at me. "No, that's not it at all. Steph, the longer you've been in this job, the more you've _become_ Ranger in some aspects. We've never been able to read the man, but having you around, we're starting to understand now because we **can** read you. Right now, you're more worried about your man, Manny, than you are concentrating on having fun with your friends. Well, if I can give you some advice, this is where you take on Ranger's ability to compartmentalize. At least for one night.

**We** are keeping an eye on Manny. We won't let him hang himself in his apartment. You need to have fun with your girlfriends. You've been gone for six weeks. Lula's been in Texas for two months. Catch up on everyone's life tonight and allow us to take care of home, or in this case, RangeMan."

I blow out a breath so I don't cry. "Thanks, Woody." I wonder if he knows that I don't know how to compartmentalize.

"No problem." He unlocks the doors and we walk back into the restaurant, Woody rubbing my back to the door. He requests a 'two-top' while I join the girls at the table and slide in next to ML. I'm putting Woody's advice into practice.

This is girl time. I'm focusing on my friends.

* * *

Woody was right. Once I make the decision to pay attention to what's going on, I have fun. Lula's ring is breathtaking. We take so many pictures that the restaurant starts taking on a disco ball feel. Lula talks about her in-laws, her trouble with Tank's youngest sister, and her determination to go to school. She doesn't want to talk about the wedding.

"Tank and I are trying not to stress it right now. We decided that, right now, we need to concentrate on learning how to live together, so I've been trying not to think about it."

We all stare at Lula in confusion.

"Umm … Lula, I gotta say . . ." ML is grasping for words.

"I don't understand that," Connie says baldly. "Shit, I spent _months_ obsessing over my wedding. Everything from flowers to favors. Nothing was too small for my attention."

Again, I have nothing to add to this discussion. I spent my time being ordered to dress fittings, being told what my flowers and favors would be, and trying to enjoy sleeping with Dickie. I mean, he wasn't bad but I'd had much better in college and a lot better since.

Why did I marry Dickie?

Lula looks amused. "You know, I never expected some big thing out of Tank. I always assumed that, if we got married, it'd be at the courthouse, in-between takedowns, and I'd spend my wedding night flat on my back."

We all snort.

Lula laughs. "Yeah. Tank was highly insulted by that. I told him, when have you ever been romantic with me? Shit, we been fuckin' forever and we do shit on occasion, but"—she shrugs—"ain't like he's big on romance." She grins big. "Turns out, all the stuff he used to do for me, making sure I had food, spending time with me, keeping my Firebird tuned, that was romance to him."

We all laugh. ML turns red, tears rolling down her face.

"Oh god yeah, men," she says between laughs. "That's romance to them. Doing the things you need done without you having to say anything. Took me years to figure that out and I only got it when Grace Gooley was complaining about her husband. Remember her, Steph?" I nod. Grace the Great, the Valerie of my class. "Anyway, she was complaining she had to bitch and moan at her husband to do simple things like take the garbage out and mow the yard and I remember thinking that Lenny did those things automatically. I never had to ask him to do those things."

"Yeah, but that's a cop out," I reply. "I mean, that's letting them get away with doing a couple of household chores in exchange for not doing other stuff to be romantic. I mean, if you stopped cooking, would you expect him to see you making dinner as a sign of your being romantic? Or is that just what you do because you have a family and they need to be fed?"

Everyone is quiet. I have no idea where that came from.

"I mean…" I'm quiet, trying to figure out how to say what I'm thinking . "Ranger knows if I ever cook him something that I put some effort into that. He's going to appreciate it, after he checks it for poison."

The girls crack up, but I see Woody and Ram smile too. I sigh. "Where's the microphone, guys?" They shake their heads. Ram lowers his hand, telling me I'm kinda loud. Oh.

"I agree with Steph," Connie says. "Romance should be purposeful."

ML snorts. "Then you two are doomed to disappointment. Men aren't forgetful or neglectful but as a whole, they're concerned about day to day living."

I raise a hand then look around Lula at Ram. Woody's grinning and Ram is doing his best to avoid looking at me. Woody whispers something and Ram finally sighs and leaves his table, pulling a chair over to sit next to me.

"You've heard the conversation. Chime in." I look at the girls. "I trust Ram to tell me the truth. He always does." They lean toward Ram. Ram gives me a long-suffering look.

"OK, here's my opinion. My opinion only." We nod, curious. "Women think of romance as purposeful acts. You think of romance as flowers and candy and walks in the park, right?"

"Right," Connie says, leaning forward.

"Well, I'm not saying you're wrong. I'm saying you've been fed a steady diet of that, so it's your expectation. Everything around you says that romance is the fluttery feelings and big bouquets and special moments. Well, men are fed a different understanding. Flowers and candy and walks in the park are the big things for dating. That's when you're trying to make your best impression. That's when you're still trying to capture her attention.

When you want to show a woman you love her, you fix the dishwasher before she has to call the plumber." ML grins and starts nodding. "You take out the trash. You make sure the oil change is done. You do the small things that make her life glide along smoothly. You're fucking up when she has to remind you to do those things."

Connie, Lula and I are staring at Ram. ML is nodding, smug.

"A man who loves you, he's going to do the things that have to be done in order to make your life better. You shouldn't have to tell him to mow the lawn. You might have to remind him to vacuum but once you make it clear that you appreciate him doing that, he'll do it because in exchange for him doing those thing, you cook and clean. You keep track of the family. You make love to him and have his babies. You make his life happy in a million small ways. A man with his head on right, he recognizes that you do a million things that he has no clue about.

Now romance? We make an effort on birthdays and anniversaries because we've been taught that if you forget those days it will **never** be forgiven. But women remember the anniversary of the first date and the first kiss. Men remember the wedding anniversary. Our list of important days is smaller."

I'm thinking about this. Ranger filled my cabinets. He put bullets in my gun. He tried to make me go to the range. He put gas in my cars. I was getting love from Ranger but I was also getting confusing words. I want words too.

Ram looks at me and sighs. "Now, Steph has a point. If you let him get away with doing household chores as romance, you've basically set your expectations low and you'll have hell trying to raise them. You can raise them, though." Ram drops his head, shakes it, and looks up, smiling. "I'll deny this if anyone **ever** asks, but men can be trained."

Our jaws drop. The answer to the eternal question. It **can** be done. Ram looks amused at the glee on our faces.

"Yeah, it can be done. It's called _praise_. You have to praise the hell out of us."

Our faces fall. ML is grinning again. "Positive reinforcement," ML says.

"Yeah. I mean, we love giving Steph flowers at RangeMan. She always looks so happy. We've been doing it for months and we'll keep doing it as long as she's in the company because we've seen the look on her face every time she gets a new bouquet. We like watching her gush over them and look the flowers and their meanings up." I'm smiling and Ram taps my arm with his fist. I stick my tongue out at him. "Until we started giving Steph flowers, most of the men in the company had no interest in flowers. Now we're all damn near flower experts."

I laugh. The girls look jealous.

"In any case, RMTrenton is trained. Flowers make the Managing Director happy, so we give her flowers and we tell the other branches to give her flowers."

"And when you need to bribe her you give her something sweet," ML says.

Ram nods and turns to Lula. "You kept buying wrap dresses for the same reason. Tank made it clear how much he loved seeing you in them. Positive reinforcement. You buy them, he appreciates them, you buy more of them."

"Well damn," Lula breathes. Ram knocks on the table and rejoins Woody. Connie's near drooling over Ram.

"Did anyone catch how many words that was?"

We look at each other and laugh.

* * *

We leave and go to Lula's apartment. It's a mess.

"Well, this is how it looked when I left for Texas. I was trying not to miss the plane."

We start moving things around to have space. We have bottles of wine and desserts (and a pint of healthy sorbet for me from Ella) and we figure out why Ram joined Woody at the restaurant.

He bought packing supplies.

"Wow," Lula breathes. "Damn. Didn't think about that." We're looking at the piles of boxes, tape, labels, and packing peanuts Woody and Ram carted in.

Ram smiles. "I thought you might not have, and all the U-Haul places are closed now so I swung by one on the way to the restaurant. Anyway, if you ladies are going to have a packing party, you need the right stuff." He looks at me. I raise my phone; he raises his, nods at me, and leaves.

Lula is swallowing hard. "You know, I've gone from resenting the RangeMen to actually liking them."

"You resented them?" I ask, trying to open the bundle of boxes. Connie produces a switchblade and expertly cuts the bundle open.

"Yeah." Lula looks around. "Hell, Tank was always so damn busy at RangeMan that we could barely see each other when he was here. Ranger always had you doing something for him, especially lately, then you took over the company and them RangeMen will barely let you past the door. RangeMan could be renamed 'building of the body-snatchers'."

That makes us all laugh. I catch ML's eye and we really crack up. I wonder when they'll capture ML.

"I'd get pissed 'cept they got me in Texas. If I didn't make an effort to go see Mrs. Carol Jean, I pretty much lived in that damn building."

We look at Connie, who grins. "I'll be happy to take up residence in RangeMan Trenton, especially if Ram is a part of the view."

"What about the doctor?" I tease.

"Oh!" Connie lights up. "Marvin Cowen. 40, divorced, two preteens who live with their mother in Bordentown. From Cherry Hill and currently lives there. I had him checked out and everything checks out."

"Describe him."

"Hmm ..." Connie swirls her wine, kicks off her heels and leans against the couch. "5'10". Curly brown hair cut close. Brown eyes. Nose job. He says he broke his nose playing college ball and I found out he played rugby at Dartmouth." We're all drooling at this point. "He kept the body too. Nice and tight. Runs marathons for heart disease. Johns Hopkins Med, interned at the Mayo Clinic—"

"How did you meet him?" ML asks, wide-eyed. We all are.

"Uncle Jimmy. Slight arrhythmia and Marvin was a visiting doctor at the hospital." Connie laughs. "Uncle Jimmy is not thrilled."

"Why?" Jesus, he's perfect.

"Marvin put him on a low-calorie, low fat diet. Half of the traditional Sicilian-American diet has been banned."

We laugh. Vegetables. The natural enemy of every Italian.

"Sooo . . . when's the second date?"

Connie's smile drops. "I don't know. He's too perfect." She sighs. "I'm not saying that I don't think I'm good enough for him, because I'm perfect for whoever I want"—we nod—"but . . . "

"Hard to believe he's even interested in you?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah." Connie nods.

Lula hands her a phone. "Call him." Connie stares at her. "Me and Steph, we know that feeling. I'm getting married to my perfect man. Steph's waiting for hers to come back from overseas. ML's been married to him for years. Call him. If he's your man, you need to get date #2 lined up."

Lula stands there, hands on hips, glaring at Connie until Connie leaves the room, dialing Marvin on her way out. Lula harrumphs.

"We've been waiting all our damn lives for these men to show up, then we run 'cuz they seem too perfect. Well, I've been living with mine and I tell you, Tank ain't perfect. That man's never heard of a salt shaker."

That makes me and ML laugh. Connie returns, all smiles. She and Marvin are going to the movies on Wednesday.

* * *

ML walks us through packing. First, sort everything. Toss the stuff Lula's been meaning to throw out, old sheets and towels, anything ratty and useless. Grab the out of season stuff and the stuff Lula's not using right now and pack that first.

That's pretty much the entire night, just going through linens and clothes. Lula realized she wouldn't need most of her heavy New Jersey winter clothes and boots but ML told her to keep it for one season. Texas might have a cold snap she didn't know about yet and she could end up needing it.

Finally, near midnight, we collapse on the couch and floor with the wine and desserts and start talking. Lula is happy.

"I mean, Mrs. Carol Jean is great and she's quick to tell me stuff. She was the one that convinced me to stay two months, to live with Tank and see what that was like."

"And?"

Lula laughs. "Rough. I'm a night owl. Tank's up with the sun. I love long car rides. He hates 'em. I hate his cooking and he gives the side-eye to Popeyes. The first month was rough cuz we had to divide chores, and I told Tank that if he wanted **me** to live with him, he was gonna have to get a grip. He had that Army allegiance to clean."

We laugh. I have to agree, so does Ranger.

"I would clean the tub and turn around 10 minutes later and Tank's pointing out all the dirt that he sees that I **still** don't see. Don't get me started on cleaning the oven."

Which is why I use mine for shoe storage, ala Carrie Bradshaw. Smartest idea ever and no one has ever firebombed my kitchen.

"We finally divided the chores into 'Dirt Tank sees' and 'Dirt Tank doesn't give a damn about'." We're in tears at this point. "I make the bed, wash clothes, pay bills, and grocery shop. Tank cleans. I came back from the grocery store one morning and he was cleaning the sink with a damn toothbrush." I swear I'm going to need a Tylenol after this. "We got a special cup in the house for toothbrushes he uses for cleaning."

"He uses more than one?" ML gasps, laughing.

Lula rolls her eyes. "I've heard enough about cross-contamination to last a lifetime and I never even heard about cross contamination before Tank. Sponges and toothbrushes for each bathroom and the kitchen each have a plastic cup and he goes bonkers if you switch them up. Tank cleans. I do everything else."

I'm wondering what I'm bringing to my relationship with Ranger. I don't clean unless I'm pissed and, in the Trenton apartment, Ella's brilliant at cleaning. When it was just me and Ranger, Ranger cleaned. I get the feeling I'm going to have to learn which toothbrushes not to use.

"What about Maria?"

"Our apartment at RangeMan isn't ready yet, so we were still living off-site, but Maria and Rafe?" Lula snorts and tosses her shoes into a corner. "Rafe was an insane man with dirt. Maria and I would laugh. He got crazy over fingerprints. The San Antonio boys started joking that it would be easier to wear gloves everywhere."

I pour myself another glass of wine. "What's it like there? Any attitude issues with the vets and the other men? Everyone get along OK? Is—"

"I'm not talking about it," Lula says emphatically. "This is girls night out. No discussing work. I'm not interested in hearing about Vinnie." We all laugh and Connie shudders. Lula pours herself another glass of wine. "You gotta put a stop to that, Steph. You'll wear yourself down. Tank, Lester and Bobby love what you're doing with the company. Quit worrying all the time."

I sigh and relax back into the couch. "Right. Stop thinking about the company."

ML pats me on the shoulder and picks up. "OK, so things I wish I knew before I got married." Lula grins and sits forward. "I wish I'd known that the man I married was the man I married." Lula looks confused. "Don't expect to change him. Even now, Lenny is still pretty much the man he was at 18."

I laugh and nod. "True. Lenny has not changed at all."

Connie refills her wine bottle. "I wish I'd known you marry the family too." We snicker.

"I'm sure that's what Tony wished _he_ knew," Lula says, and we burst into laughter.

"True," Connie says, wiping her eyes, "but what I mean is when you marry a man, you marry his family just like he marries yours. Tony's family had spoiled him beyond belief. I wish I'd known that."

ML and Connie start a laundry list of things they wished they'd known. I'm still stuck at 'don't get attached to your dining room table'. Finally, I know what I want to say to Lula.

"Marry because you're ready, not because he asked or because you're lonely." Everyone nods. "I married a charmer for all the wrong reasons. I mean, I was interested in Dickie because he had a hot car and he was charming. I stuck with him because he was my ticket out of the Burg and being married would shut my mom up. I didn't marry Dickie because I loved him. I married Dickie because he was convenient." I take a sip of wine and mutter, "I nearly made the same mistake all over again."

It's quiet. ML puts her wine down and rubs my shoulders. "Explain that, Steph," she says softly.

I take another gulp of wine. "I mean, I like Joe. I love Joe, but not in the way needed for me to marry him. That's why I kept running from him. I would have married Joe when I got too injured to be a bounty hunter. I would have married him if Ranger died. I would have married him when I hit menopause or if I ended up pregnant. But I would not have married Joe because I was head over heels in love with him. I would have married him because I had no other choice. Joe was convenient. We've been dating for what? Four years? I would have stretched that out for another ten if given a chance."

We all sit back and refill the wine. "And Ranger?" Connie asks, swirling hers.

I smile. "I'm not saying I would marry Ranger tomorrow because I wouldn't. I'm not even sure I want to be married but, unlike Joe, that's an option with Ranger. Ranger and I could have a committed relationship without ever getting married. Joe would have eventually started pressuring me to get married. Actually, he did. That's what we broke up over a few months ago." I take a gulp of wine. Connie and Lula are staring in shock. I nod. "He gave me an ultimatum."

"Well damn. That was dumb," Lula says.

"Yeah, but it was also fair to him. He was sick of the back and forth. He was sick of never knowing if we would ever get married or if I was just jerking him around waiting on Ranger." Everyone nods. "I'm not ready to be married, but being with Ranger doesn't scare me half as much as being with Joe. With Ranger, there'll always be an option, a choice." I look at all of them. "They ran a psyop on me."

"What!" Three incredulous looks of indignation. I smile.

"Yeah. To force me to get the training. Bobby, Tank, and Lester. I'm almost certain Ranger wasn't involved in it. Not his style. But BLT"—Lula laughs—"got sick of watching me get hurt. They forced me to get this training so Ranger would feel safe being in a relationship with me. I'm his biggest weakness and I've already been used against him."

They all sober. No one will ever forget Scrog.

"And to tell the truth, they did a good job. I've learned a hell of a lot more than they expected, about me, about Ranger, and about my life. The best part of it?" They lean forward. "They removed me from the Burg."

Connie's forehead scrunches in confusion. "No they didn't. RangeMan in still in Trenton."

"No," ML breathes, "I see what you mean. You only went to your parents house when you wanted to and even then you had an escort. You weren't in your apartment by yourself. They isolated you in their building, the building of the body-snatchers," she says, grinning at Lula.

"Exactly. Isolated in the RangeMan building, surrounded by Ranger's life all the time, it gave me a chance to really decide how I wanted to live mine. I thought I was independent but I realized in NYC that I wasn't. I was dependent on skips, my mother, and Vinnie. The skips try to kill me, my mother wants me married, and Vinnie is just slimy."

We all laugh. "Ranger is truly independent. He does what he wants when he wants because he's worked hard to have those options. Ranger could sell RangeMan tomorrow and still be OK. If I missed a month without a skip I was desperate, which is how I occasionally ended up working for Ranger." I refill the wine and sit back. Everyone is smiling at me, nodding slightly. "I've had a chance to live that life now. Before he left, Ranger said he wanted me to stay at RangeMan, do his job, kinda test drive his life. Well I have, and you know what I've learned?"

I smile as they lean forward.

"I love being the CO and I **love** that the Burg has no idea what I'm up to. I'm not subject to the gossip anymore and I could care less about their opinions. I love that I'm making enough to be independent and that I have a job that's fun and exciting and isn't necessarily behind a desk all the time. I love that I get to make orders and do as I please and once I finish this clearance, I'll be able to go wherever I want without a guard. I like this life.

I'm sure there's more I haven't seen yet but, so far, living this life hasn't been bad. Tonight at the restaurant, I saw two of my mother's friends. Before, I would have gone over to say hello and been hit with questions and opinions. Tonight I merely nodded at them as we left. They were stunned. They expected me to stop by their table and I didn't.

That's what I mean. I finally have had a chance to live my life, in Trenton but without the Burg in my face all the time, and I love it. I love that they don't have a clue."


	35. Armando's had ENOUGH!

**Chapter 70.3 Armando's Had **_**ENOUGH!**_

**Armando's POV—Friday Afternoon**

Mariela meets me at the airport and I hug her on sight. My wife. She's stood by me for years, during the best and the worst. Time for me to begin repaying her devotion with my support, my _full_ support.

"I love you. Thank you for standing with me. Thank you for staying by my side," I whisper. I watch her eyes water and kiss her gently. "Thank you for my babies, my girls. Thank you for having the patience of a saint. Thank you for being my partner in life."

Mari smiles, but it's shaky. I pass her my handkerchief and hold her close.

"I love you, Mando." She sniffs. "My vows are eternal. I mean them."

"And I mean mine. '_For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh.'_ I haven't done that for you, as I should, and that ends. You have my vow, Mariela. You and the girls will come first."

Mari looks at me in wonder and amazement. She giggles then laughs loudly. I smile.

"What happened to you in New Jersey?" she asks, amazed. "Did the CO do something to you?"

I nod and start moving to the exits. "Two things. One, we all went to church on Sunday. The sermon was excellent that day and timely. The priest mentioned that the commandment to be faithful, husband to wife, in marriage, occurs in the Bible nine separate times. Nine times is man reminded to leave his family and cleave to his wife and children first. Not that family isn't important, but my duty to you, as your husband, is to **always** put you first."

Mari nods and I open the car door. Once she's settled, I stash my bags and take off for home.

"I've failed you, as your husband, these past years, and I can only remain grateful that you haven't left me or decided I'm not worth the effort. I've allowed the family, especially my mother and _Tía_ Chita, to run our household simply because I didn't want conflict, but that only created conflict." I smile sadly at her. "The point was driven home by Danny."

Mari's eyebrows come together. "The Atlanta XO?"

I nod. "He gave me a piece of paper"–I fish it out of my pocket and hand it to her–"and I realized that number two applied to both my professional and personal life." I watch her read the note and nod. "I've merely delayed this showdown. It hasn't gone away. Meanwhile, I left you out there to fight the fight. Well, no more. I'm ready. I'm prepared to stand my ground."

Mari sniffs and wipes her eyes. "The first applies too."

I frown. "Read it to me." She reads it and I think. "Explain."

Mari frowns and I grin. She hates one word sentences. "Well, _love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage._ That's what you and I have with the family. You love them and they love you, but they take advantage of you, to **their** advantage, never yours. Antonio, your _mamí_, your _tía_, your siblings, everyone takes advantage of your giving nature, and they get what they want but when you need something, we can't get their help. They're too busy to take the girls or your _mamí_. I'm a stay-at-home mom, so _of course_ I have time to bake six dozen brownies for a bake sale or help out at someone's yard sale. A hurricane is coming, so _of course_ we can house the entire family at our house, since we're the farthest from the shore. See what I mean? They run all over us."

Mari is absolutely right. "You are right, _querida_. It ends. Now. I mean this."

Mari nods. "So how did Ms. Plum help?"

"She told me to stop assuming things about Ranger." I look at Mari, sober. She's confused. "The plan for RangeMan is well known. It's known that Ranger intends to return to the Miami office, but she asked me to consider what happens in that office if he never returns." Mariela pales. "Exactly. Ranger likes doing those high-casualty missions. What if he died overseas? That was the first thought I had and it's the one that helped me realize that if I didn't get a handle on that office, I would always be _waiting_ for someone to come solve the problem."

It's silent in the car for a while, before she turns to me. "So, what's your plan?"

I smile. "Family first and I want you to help me with this. I'm supposed to report to Charlotte on Wednesday"–Mariela nods–"so I'm going to use this as leverage to get the entire family out of our house and out of our lives. I'm going to spend the weekend changing the locks on the house and all the alarm codes. I want to have a dinner Monday night with all my brothers and sisters." I look at her and she's smiling and digging into her purse for paper and a pen.

"At that dinner I will announce that I'm moving to Charlotte on Wednesday and you are joining me at the end of the month. Because we don't know how long the assignment will last, we are shutting the house down. No electricity, no phone, no cable, nothing."

"So your _mamí_ and Josefina will have to move out?"

"Exactly."

Mari is beaming. "Mando?" I look over. "What do you think of selling the house?" I raise an eyebrow and wait. "I mean, it was our first home, our starter, and we've outgrown it. The girls need their own rooms, I'd like to have a guest room, and I'd like to be in a better school district. Why don't we put the house on the market and buy another when we return home? Something in a gated community, so your family no longer has the luxury of just dropping in on us."

"Is that what you want?" She nods. "OK, then that's what we'll do." I'm glad my salary is good and my savings are healthy. We can afford to do just that. "At that dinner, I'll make it clear to my siblings that it's time for someone else to take my _mamí_. She's not coming to Charlotte with us and I don't care who takes her. If they can't make a decision by the time we leave, they can expect to find her and her things at _Tía_ Chita's house on the 30th.

Regardless of what happens, _Mamí_ living in our home was supposed to be short term. We've had her for three years. It's someone else's turn. Josefina is done with school and she has a job. Time to become an adult. Sink or swim. She doesn't pay rent so she has no rights. Out she goes."

Mari grins and I squeeze her hand. We pull into the driveway at home and I see the family all there to greet me. I turn off the car and turn to her.

"I'm not done with this discussion, so let's grab the girls, I'll take a quick shower, and we'll go out for dinner."

Mari kisses my cheek and hops out the car. The entire family crowds around.

"Well, Mando, you took a vacation without taking anyone else in the family?" _Mamí_ says, frowning. "That was rude. You should have taken your daughters and your wife."

I grab my bags and walk into the house. I say absolutely nothing and Mari's eyes are wide.

"Armando! I'm speaking to you."

I turn. "No, you are attempting to lecture me," I reply coldly. "It was rude of you not to greet me with a 'Hello' or 'Welcome Home, son', so I chose to meet your incivility with my own. As for my trip, it was business." I turn and head to the bedroom, Mari close behind, leaving my stunned family in the living room.

I take a quick shower and dress. By the time I'm ready, Mari has the girls ready. Unfortunately, my mother and _Tía_ Chita have also grabbed their purses and are ready to go.

"Mother?" She turns. "This is a family dinner, just me, my wife, and daughters. I'm sorry, but you are not invited." Everyone is looking at me as if they've never seen me before. "Everyone, time to go. Everyone needs to leave my home now."

"Armando," my mother says slowly, "I don't appreciate this rude behavior. This is my home. My family is here and we need to talk."

I turn to Mari and hand her the keys. She smiles, kisses my cheeks and escorts the girls to the car.

"You are incorrect, _Mamí_. This is **my** home and Mariela is queen here. I've been away for a week on business and I have things to discuss with my wife that are important." I turn and look at the rest of the family. "My mother's invitation is rescinded. Everyone needs to leave." I turn back to my mother. "If you intend to have dinner tonight, mother, you will need to fend for yourself or join _Tía_ Chita. I need to join my family."

I open the front door and glare at everyone in the room. They're speechless.

"I meant my words. Leave."

Slowly, everyone rises and leaves, staring at me. My mother is left and I merely stare at her. I love my mother but it's time to redefine our relationship. She will never again dictate to me in my home. As a matter of fact . . .

I close the door and stand in front of her. "_Mamí_, I love you, but the time has come for our relationship to change. Never again will you rule my home. I will no longer allow you to disrespect my wife. She is queen here, not you. You will **never** again dictate to me what happens in my home, my life, or my marriage. That's over and done."

She stands, looking at me frostily. "You have become your father."

I shrug. My father was a good man. He just didn't love my mother and she didn't love him, at least not by the end. I'm not insulted.

My lack of response infuriates her. "Well, since that's the way you feel, I won't return until you apologize to me."

"Where are you going?"

"Conchita's," she says, coldly, stepping outside. Good. One problem down. I'm not apologizing for telling the truth.

"I'll have your things delivered there."

Her eyes widen but I close the door. I call Thomas.

"Yo!"

"Yo! Need you to do me a favor."

"OK."

"I want to change the alarm codes to my home and I don't want anyone, especially Antonio, to know what they are."

"I'll keep it quiet. Shoot."

I think quickly and decide on Mariela's parents' wedding anniversary. Something Mother doesn't know. I call the numbers to Thomas and he resets the alarm. I test it on my end and the new code works. Perfect.

"Thanks, man." _Click._

I set the alarm and leave the house. Most of the family is now standing on the lawn, looking at me in shock. I don't stop moving to my car, where Mariela and my girls are waiting.

"Armando!" _Tía_ Chita calls. I don't stop. I climb into the car and turn to my wife.

"Where to?" I grin.

"I feel like Italian tonight. Carrabba's?"

I nod and we set off.

* * *

The call for breach of alarm comes halfway through dinner. I step outside.

"Yo, Mando?" Pedro.

"Yes."

"The alarm at your house is going off."

"Call the police," I reply calmly.

There's silence. "We sent an incident team. It was your family, your mother and aunt. The police are just arriving."

"My mother said she was taking up residence with my aunt. If she needs to enter my home, she needs to call me."

There's confused silence on the line. "OK," he says slowly. "Well, what do you want us to do?"

I think quickly. "Escort my mother and aunt out. Make it clear that they can return when I return. Tell the cops I've been informed and I'll return home and shut off the alarm. Reset the alarm on your side."

"Want us to reset it on your side?"

"Where's Thomas?"

"Here."

"Ask him to. Anything else?"

Silence. "Nah. I think that's it."

_Click_.

I return to the table. Mariela looks worried. I grin. "They attempted to reenter the house."

Mariela laughs. Yes, this is a new Mando. My wife is the number one woman in my life and **everyone** will respect her domain.

Mariela and I discuss which areas of town we would like to move to during dinner. At the end, I bring up the CO's intentions regarding vacation time. Mariela is thrilled.

"You mean, she's forcing everyone to take vacation?"

I nod. "I'm the only XO who has taken vacation since becoming an XO. Remember? That was when Alyssa was a baby and we took her to Puerto Rico to see your family. They've never met Elena, and we all realized she was right. The XOs never take vacation and we need it more than most. She told me that it was obvious that I needed time away. The longer we were there, the more the stress just seemed to melt away from me."

Mari sits back. Finally, she smiles. "I like this woman and I can't wait to meet her."

I grin. "I'm ready to prove to her that I deserve my job. She's proven that she'll fight for you and back you if you're worth backing."

"Good. Sounds like a good boss to have. So, what you are going to do with your 50 days of vacation?"

I grin. "Where do you want to go?"

* * *

When we return home, it's quiet. My mother and aunt left before we returned and Mari and I are able to put the girls to bed with ease. Josefina tiptoes in much later, setting off the alarm. I tell her that the alarm codes have been changed and she needs to join the family for dinner Monday night. She tries to complain, saying she has a dinner date with her boyfriend. I tell her attendance at this dinner is mandatory. No excuses.

I enjoy a wonderful reunion with my wife and wake up the next morning prepared to begin making up for my inattention. I prepare breakfast for Mari and, while she's enjoying breakfast in bed, I get the girls dressed and fed. Josefina leaves in a huff after glaring at me all morning. Mari is ready to call her and tell her off, but I merely smile and ask her to hold off. We decide to spend the weekend together, as family, but I call a locksmith to change all the locks in the house.

Two hours later, he's done and I have the only key. I smile; I had him install bump-proof locks. I pack my family into the car and we leave. Josefina calls in the middle of the day; she's locked out. I inform her that if she had been pleasant earlier she might have known I intended to have all the locks changed. Now she'll need to wait for me to come home. I hang up on her stunned silence.

At the end of the evening, I have a few copies of the key made and give two to Mari. Another will go to Thomas, one to Diego and one more for the realtor. I check the locks; someone attempted to pick them. I point this out to Mari and she laughs. Josefina arrives right after the girls go to bed and complains about not being able to come and go as she pleases. Mari and I merely stare at her.

We attend church as a family on Sunday. My entire family is there, looking at me oddly. I nod and escort my family to their seats. At the end of service, everyone converges on me.

"Armando," Mateo says slowly, "I completely understand your determination to set some ground rules in your house—"

"No, you don't," I reply coldly. "You can't understand because _Mamí_ hasn't been living in your house for three years. Josefina doesn't live with you. So don't go there with me."

My brothers and sisters are silent. I look at all of them. "You are invited to dinner at my house tomorrow. _Tía_ Chita too. I have things to say that I will discuss at that point, but not now. Adults only."

I walk over to Mari, who smiles. I stand there with my wife, watching my girls play with their cousins. Once they're tired, we pack them into the car and go home. Josefina shows shortly after and packs a week's worth of clothes to stay with her boyfriend, glaring at us the entire time. Mari told her to fix her face.

It's a quiet night. I pack the car with the U-Haul boxes we bought yesterday and join Mari in packing our house up. We want to make an impression when the family comes over for dinner tomorrow. By the time we hit the bed, the living room has been packed up. It's clear what the discussion will concern and I'm determined to control the battlefield.

* * *

I hit the office at 0600 the next day. Everyone is quiet watching me carry the boxes into the building, and I realize that I enjoy the fact that they don't have a clue what's going on. Everyone assumes I've been fired and Tony can't keep the smirk off his face. I talked to Steph Sunday night and she told me she intends to send the email out at 1600. Perfect. My office will be packed by then.

By noon, the shockwaves are just ending. We are now fifth in the company and the men are speechless. Tony is stunned and bewildered. I've had nothing to say to him and, when he stopped by my office to offer some insincere regrets, I slammed him to the floor and advised him to get the fuck out of my office. He limped away in shock; I'd never done that before. When _Tía_ Chita called to complain, I told her to never call my office again to involve herself in company matters and hung up in her face.

Everyone is giving me a lot of space today. The longest serving members in this office have been wide-eyed, with half smiles on their faces.

Thomas stops by my office and shuts the door. I stop him before he says anything. "Do you trust our management?" His eyes are wide. Finally, he nods. "Then continue to do so. Believe in the management." I grin and point to the door. He leaves and I finish packing. At 1600 the email hits. I know because the entire floor goes silent.

I smile and raise my eyes to the ceiling. Diego will fire every fucker he can. I wait ten minutes and set off for Thomas's office. I meet Diego on the way; he's grinning. I get the full contact handshake/hug.

"Congrats," I tell him.

"You too," he replies. Diego is thrilled and he can't wait. Someone approaches behind me and Diego glares at him.

"Do I want to know?"

"Nope." We head to Thomas's office.

* * *

I step into the house and call for Mari. She appears, grinning.

"The family's been tipped off by Antonio. Phone's been ringing all day. I made arrangements for the girls to stay with Thomas tonight." She looks thrilled. "Did you really body slam Tony to the ground?" I merely grin and Mari laughs.

I kiss her then dip a spoon into the beans. I get popped. "I'm going to clean up." I head for our bedroom.

"They'll be here soon," she calls from behind me.

Thirty minutes later, the family starts arriving. Anything they wanted to say dies at the sight of our packed up living room. Once everyone arrives, we sit at the table and say grace. We have a mostly silent dinner, with a few discussions about the children and a compliment to Mari's cooking. No one has had the balls to say anything to me yet. Good. **I** will control the conversation.

Once the coffee and flan is served, Mari smiles at me. She's ready so I begin. "Because this family concerns itself with my business all the time, it's clear you've all heard that I'm being transferred to Charlotte." Silence around the table. "It's true. The assignment is open ended and it's non-negotiable. If I intend to keep my position with RangeMan, I have to go."

"That doesn't make any sense, Mando," Antonio says angrily, but I raise a hand.

"_**You**_ had better be extremely careful over the next few weeks and months," I reply coldly. "Diego has full authority in that office and he **will **fire you. You aren't family. You mean less than _nothing_ to him and I cannot and will not reverse his decision. This is also his opportunity to prove to the CO he deserves an XO position. I expect a lot of things in that office will change."

Antonio sits back, furious. I look at the rest of the family. Complete shock, dismay, confusion, and anger across everyone's faces.

"I am primarily responsible for the position I'm in. Because of my failure to fire Tony, the CO now wonders if I'm any good as an XO." They look astonished now. "The CO is not Hispanic. She would fire family in a heartbeat if she had to, and she reminded me that Ranger would also fire family if he had to. He has, in fact, given me permission to fire Tony and I didn't. There is a standing order I failed to execute trying to keep his ungrateful ass employed. I made business personal and now I'm in the fire."

Everyone is now looking at the two of us, astonished. Antonio is pale and embarrassed. It's the first time I've ever told the family that. I turn to him and lean forward.

"Fuck up once and Diego will fire you. He may even call for an exit interview, considering how many times you've pissed him off. You saw today how he intends to move forward in that office. You want your job? Do it and keep your mouth closed. I will not protect you any longer. You get fired, by either the interim XO or the CO when she visits, and that's it. If I'm ordered to fire you, I **will** execute the order. I will **never** again put **my** job at risk for you."

Antonio swallows hard. He's pale, eyes wide. I've issued the warning. Now I can tell Diego he was warned and to fire him at will. I turn and face my family, all of whom look astonished. No one expected that. I'm drawing a line in the sand but I want to make it crystal clear.

"I won't help Tony any longer. He's had all the help from me he'll ever get." I turn to _Tía_ Chita. "Do not ever call RangeMan and think to concern yourself in the running of that office again." I look at the rest of the family. "That goes for all of you. I don't call your jobs and tell you what to do. RangeMan is my employer and I'm Tony's boss. Stay out of RangeMan business."

I take a quick sip of water and survey the table. No one dares breathe at the moment. Good. I still control the battlefield.

"Because of my failures, the CO is moving me to Charlotte to bring up the branch," I tell them. "This is my last chance to prove that I'm a good XO and someone worthy of her support. She's shown herself to be an excellent boss, someone who cares, so I intend to prove to her that I want to keep my position. Also, I told her about Mari's pregnancy and she encouraged me to take my family with me. That's exactly what I intend to do. I have to report Wednesday, so I'm leaving tomorrow evening, but Mari and the girls will join me at the end of the month."

I turn to my mother, a little stronger, louder now. I want to make sure she hears me clearly.

"Your decision to go live with _Tía_ Chita relieved me of having to determine where you should go live. I intended to have this dinner tonight and allow my siblings the fun of fighting over who would get the pleasure of having you in their home. You've taken that out of our hands, so I simply need you to come pack up your things."

My mother is ashen. I'm enjoying this more than I thought I would.

"Regardless of how long we stay in Charlotte, Mari and I have made the decision to sell this house. We've outgrown it. If I'm made the XO of Charlotte permanently, I want to be able to just move our things. If we return to Miami, then we'll look for a new home. In either case, Mari and I are meeting with the realtor tomorrow morning to put this house on the market."

My family is stunned.

I turn to Josefina. "You have graduated college. You have a degree and a good job. Time for you to be an adult. You will also leave our home and you need to move out before the 30th. We've never charged you rent, so you should have a nice nest egg to get an apartment."

"Mando, I can't afford to get an apartment! I'm brand new at work. I don't make that much money—"

"Then get a roommate! Move in with your boyfriend." Gasps around the table. I roll my eyes. "You spend five out of seven nights with him anyway." Josefina turns red. "In any case, it was OK for you to stay here while you were still in school. You're a grown woman now with a degree, a job, and a car. Time for you to start making your way in the world. And if you want to stay at Lucas's as often as you do, doing the activities of married women, make him marry you."

Josefina sits back in her chair, red, embarrassed and angry.

"Any questions?" I take a sip of coffee and enjoy the results of that battle. Everyone is completely caught off guard and confused, just as I hoped.

"You mean we're being allowed to speak?" _Tía_ Chita asks snidely.

"If you must," I reply coldly. "Consider your words to me, in **my** home, very carefully."

She stares at me, as ashen as her son. Finally, she turns to my mother. "Consuela, I don't have room. I have a two bedroom. There's not enough room for your stuff and mine."

My mother looks at me. "You mean this woman has the right to tell you where you have to go?"

I stare at her. "That's RangeMan business, mother."

"I thought she was temporary." She looks at Tony. "You said she didn't have any authority, any power, but she has the authority to tell him what to do?"

I smile coldly. "Never assume anything at RangeMan." Tony looks furious.

Now the true fun begins. While Mari and I sip coffee and smile at each other, my aunt and siblings fight about where my mother will live. Tony is watching me carefully and every so often I give him a look that says, 'Don't **even** think about it."

My relatives will **never** again dictate to me what I will do. Mariela is right. Stephanie is right. Danny is right. I have to make decisions based on what's best for me and **my** family. My relatives have wrung me dry and gotten everything they've wanted from me. _Love and Fear_. Well, my relatives have gotten the love. Time for them to learn to fear me.

Finally, Isabella slumps back in tears. She lost the fight. _Mamí_ will move in with her and her husband by the 30th. Josefina has been on the phone with Lucas. He doesn't have room for her in his two-bedroom with no roommates (I roll my eyes). She and my sister Bianca will start apartment hunting tomorrow.

"Now that that's settled, let's move on to procedures from Wednesday until the end of this month," Mari says. She looks directly at my mother and sister. "Mando has made it clear to both of you and to me, so let me say this now in front of everyone. This is **my** home. I will **not** be disrespected in it. We've had the alarm codes and all the locks changed. When you want to enter, you need to call me in advance—"

"**I will not call you in order to enter my home**!" my mother says in a fury.

Mariela stands. My beloved wife is short, but at that moment all 5'6" of her looked 6' in the late summer sun.

"This is not your home," Mariela hisses, leaning toward my mother. "This is **MY** home. Mine and Armando's and I will never again allow anyone else to rule our home. **I** am queen here and you **will** respect that or you can leave for Bella's tonight."

Mari sits and Bella looks stricken. My mother is furious but I will back my wife.

"Perhaps I was not clear yesterday, Mother. Mariela is queen in my home and I agree with my wife. You will respect her domain or you can pack a suitcase and leave with Bella and Jesús tonight."

My eyes have not left my mother but there is complete silence around the table. It's sinking in to everyone that I'm not the same man who left for New Jersey. No, this Armando is different. He will never be run around or bullied again. He will no longer allow them to have free rein in his life. His daughters come first. His wife comes first. I've given and helped and taken care of everyone else until my emotional reserves are dry and empty. Never again.

I'm prepared to toss my own mother out of my home tonight. I'm prepared to toss my sister out of my house tonight. I will **never** leave my wife alone to fight my battles. No, **I** will fight my battles and trust her to support me, the way it should be.

Everyone's hands are shaky and I hear a lot of hard swallowing and throats being cleared, but I hold my mother's gaze until she drops hers to the table.

I finally raise my eyes and nod at Mari, who has calmed. She smiles and takes a sip of her coffee before speaking. "I will be busy over these next two weeks, preparing this house to go on the market and to move with my girls to Charlotte. I will not be home all the time and I will not leave anyone in my home when I'm not here."

She turns to Tony. "If I find that you overstep your place and allow people into my home, I **will** have you arrested. I mean that. I do not expect you to use your skills and position as a RangeMan to override our alarm codes and pick our locks. Don't think we didn't notice you attempted to pick the locks."

She glares at Tony until he nods. She faces my mother again. Mother is stunned and furious.

"**If** we return to Miami, I've made it clear to Mando that if you rejoin our household, I will leave him." Gasps around the table. "When you first came to live with us, I was OK with it because you were a wonderful and supportive mother-in-law in your short-lived grief. However, since then you've become a critical, mean, vindictive person who cares more about supporting the rest of her family than supporting her son. You actively support their actions and join them in beating down your son. Look at your greetings to him Friday night! That was not a loving mother welcoming her son home. He wasn't even out of the car when you started in on him.

Mando is in the position he's in now because of his own actions, yes, but he wouldn't fire Tony, the cause of 50% of his problems, because you and _Tía_ Chita would be on his ass for months. He was right in that assumption and now he's paying for it. Well, as his wife, I will protect him just as he protects me. Never again will you dictate to him in his house. I will reassert myself as his wife."

She turns to me and smiles. "'_For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh.'_ We are recommitting ourselves to each other and our marriage, knowing that Mando faces hard times ahead in Charlotte. He needs support and encouragement around him to ensure he keeps his position."

Mari glares fiercely at everyone around the table and no one can meet her eyes. "**I** am the number one woman in his life. I reclaim my position. I reclaim my place at his side and protect his back from those who would sling arrows and stones at it, including his family."

My family is silent. Everyone is shocked and stunned and I'm surprised to see that my mother looks a bit scared.

"If anyone would like to join me in packing this house up and getting it ready to be sold, I would appreciate that. It would be nice to see the family support Armando and me right now. Mando leaves tomorrow night, and knowing that I have help would be one less worry on his mind."

"That's true," I agree, smiling at Mari. "I would like to know that all of you are helping **my** wife, just as I've always pitched in to help move each of you. I've pitched in whenever the call for help went out. Well, we're putting one out now. You've seen that we've packed the living room. Right now, it would be nice to get Mother packed so that she can go ahead and get settled at Bella's before the end of this week."

Slowly, my brothers nod. Isabella looks ready to cry and her husband is glaring at me, but wisely saying nothing. After all, what can he say? It's clear I'm leaving. Congrats, Jesús. She's yours now. She's going to make you pay for being Colombian instead of Cuban every fucking day. I hope you enjoy 'drug dealer' jokes. I hope you love _Tía_ Chita. She'll be at your house every fucking day, chiding Bella's crap cooking skills and attempting to take over your kitchen. Bella doesn't have a tenth of Mari's strength.

I hope you enjoy having Tony's lazy ass taking over your living room, complaining about everything, turning the family against **you, **eating you out of house and home, insinuating that he would be a better comic than you. You thought it was hilarious when it was me. Shit, you used it as part of your comedy routine! This should give you plenty of material.

My hell isn't so funny now, is it?

* * *

My family was completely broadsided. Tony was the first to leave, along with his mother. _Tía_ Chita glared but said nothing and I appreciated it. Mother immediately went to her bedroom and looked around. I joined her and waited to see what she would say.

Nothing.

She glared at me and slowly began packing. I took the clothes from her closet and packed them in the wardrobe box. My brothers and brothers-in-law made room in the garage for her things and Jesús quietly coordinated with Mari to bring a U-Haul to pick up _Mamí_'s things. Mother went around the house, with Mari, pointing out her belongings and packing them away.

Josefina got on her computer and started looking for apartments. When she realized that all the areas she wanted to stay in would cost at least $1000 a month, she started pleading with Mari to change her mind and stay in Miami. Mari looked at her in cold anger.

"So, let me be sure I have this correct," Mari said slowly. "You want me to put **you** ahead of my husband? Ahead of my girls and the baby I currently carry? You want me to put your selfish interest ahead of my husband's best interest? Ahead of my marriage? Ahead of my children?"

Everyone had gotten quiet. Mari looked more furious with each sentence. Josefina wised up and shut up. Bianca moved her away from Mari and advised her to start calling her girlfriends and lining up roommates.

Meanwhile, Bella had a temper tantrum. I watched as my older sister lost her mind in my backyard.

"Mando, I can't take her! Jesús and I don't want her poking her nose into our lives, demanding I get pregnant, telling me I can't cook! That's why we didn't take her when Papá died. We can't take her. You take her to Charlotte with you. There's no reason she can't go." Bella sobbed on my shoulder. "We have busy lives. Mari is a stay-at-home mom. That's why she needs to stay with you. Mari can take care of her."

This continued for another 15 minutes. Before, I might have caved to stop her crying but now I listened to her words and realized how selfish they were. _Mamí_ would cramp her life. _Mamí_ would irritate her. _Mamí_ would demand to tell her how to live her life. _Mamí_ would drive her insane. She and Jesús didn't want to deal with it.

It was pissing me off.

"Are you done?" I asked coldly. Bella looked at me in surprise. "Your little temper tantrum has done nothing except illustrate why she's not coming with us. We dealt with it for three years. Someone else's turn."

Bella's eyes were wide. Jesús had joined us and his jaw was clenched. I looked at both of them.

"I listened to your words, Bella. Tell me, why should **my** wife be the one to put up with the constant disrespect? Because she's a stay-at-home mom? That's it? I'm insulted and I'm insulted on Mari's behalf. Your turn. You deal with it." I turn to Jesús. "Can't **wait** to hear your new comedy routine."

"That was low," Jesús said tightly.

"But it was _hilarious_ when it was my hell," I replied.

I left them both standing in my backyard as my big sister burst into tears again. She actually stamped her feet like a little girl. Now _that_ was funny. My mother was standing at the door looking out at them.

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's overjoyed you're joining their household," I replied, headed to her bedroom to finish packing her.

* * *

Mari and I flop back on the bed, grinning. We look at each other and start laughing and we laugh until the tears are running down our faces. I look at my wife and grin.

"What did you enjoy most?" I ask.

"The look on your _mamí_'s face when you said Bella was overjoyed she was joining their household." Mari's turning red holding back the laughter. We look at each other and start laughing again. Finally, we calm and wipe our eyes. "You?"

"The look on Tony's face when he realized that his ass in on the line with Diego, when I suggested he might call for an exit interview."

Mari giggles. "Oh yeah, that was great."

"It was tied with the looks on everyone's faces when I stepped back into the house and saw that chef's knife in your hand."

We laugh. I roll onto my side and kiss my wife. So precious and so _fierce_ tonight. I roll onto my back and pull her into my arms. We calm down and stare at the ceiling, holding hands.

"I love you, Mariela Josefina Cortes."

"I love you, Armando Rafael Cortes."

I smile. My personal life is squared away. Now, to show who I could be as an XO. I'm ready.

Armando is _**back**_.


	36. Humbled, Part I

**A/N: Like Lula and Tank, this started life as a one-shot, but so many of you seem to enjoy Chenae's humbling that I decided to expand it. Also, please pay attention to how certain themes tie back to the main story.**

* * *

**Humbled, Part I**

**Chenae's POV**

First sorority committee meeting of the year. I'm the president and I'm being humiliated by everyone.

"Soror Chenae, you'll be in charge of the fundraising committee again this year, right?" Soror Christina asks, smirking. Bitch. She's enjoying this.

"Unfortunately, Soror, I cannot. I have to concentrate on finals."

"Nearly all of us have to concentrate on finals, Soror Chenae. It's a tiresome fact of life in college," she says. "You've done such a brilliant job the past two years. I think you can handle it another year. All in favor?"

Every hand rises. Technically, I'm not a part of this committee; I'm ex-officio. Christina, as first VP, is the head of this committee. The vote is unanimous and I'm now stuck with fundraising for the year.

I hate Tallulah Jackson. Thank god she's gone back to New Jersey.

* * *

School's only been in session for two weeks but I'm miserable. I hated moving back on campus and having to eat in the cafeteria with freshmen. It's embarrassing and humiliating because freshmen have no couth. Worse, as the president of the most popular black sorority on campus, I constantly get poseurs and kiss-asses trying to sit with me and suck up.

Amitrice and Christina were quick to tell me that they'll keep my future bitch-in-law's background to themselves in exchange for running the chapter they want to. Gone are my plans for elegant parties and meaningful community service. Instead, we're doing things that I never intended. Instead of mentoring and volunteering with the Urban League, we're marching with the NAACP. God, the NAACP?! They're irrelevant! A bunch of old people who see racism around every corner. Shit, they're still in the 60s, marching like people pay attention to that.

People my age look at them and know they're irrelevant. Proof? Our President. He followed the new path. Excellent education, community service, public work. No stops in divinity school, no marching necessary. Every black leader doesn't have to be a preacher. He proved it and he's not the only one. Cory Booker, Marc Morial, Ben Jealous (OK, yeah, he's the head of the NAACP but he's no preacher), all these guys are the new wave. No marching necessary.

The Urban League is about economic empowerment and promoting entrepreneurship. They're about business! I'm not interested in marching for civil rights all over again. I want economic rights! I want economic prosperity. That's the new fight. I want to own my destiny, like Pierre. He and his buddies started their own business and they are successful and rich. I don't see Pierre worrying about immigration policy, stop-and-frisk, police brutality or any of that foolishness! He has a business to run.

I trudge back to my dorm room and pull my books. I have practicums and internship in social work this year and I'm already sick of it. I remember what Momma said about finding a group I can 'lower' myself to work with. I was insulted but she was right; I haven't found a group I want to work with yet. I spend an hour staring blankly at the books before the tears start rolling down my cheeks.

_You know what your problem is, Chenae? Too much fucking ego. Too selfish._

Fuck you, Robert Brown. I don't think he could have said anything else to me that day to hurt me more. I've loved Bobby Brown ever since Pierre first brought him home. I mean, who wouldn't? All my girlfriends loved him! Six foot, sexy chocolate brown skin, beautiful white smile, curly black hair, graceful and elegant in everything he did. Shortly before I went off to college, he and Pierre took me and my girlfriends to the YMCA pool one afternoon to cool down. They were sick of running laps but they still had to exercise. We sat on the bleachers and stared at him. Well, Nicey stared at Pierre but she likes 'em big. I chose to ignore her. That's my brother!

We watched the way he cut through the water, like an Olympic swimmer, doing flips in the pool to make the turns. Then he got out of the pool and I think all six of us, all of 17 at the time, had a hot flash. Robert Brown fully dressed was one thing. Robert Brown dripping wet in a pair of swim shorts was another. The man put Blair Underwood to shame and we were _obsessed_ with him. His chest was sculpted perfection, his butt was high, tight, and amazing but for me there was just _something _about his legs. . .

And he thinks I'm selfish.

I put the books away and grab my coat. I start walking the campus, searching for a way out of my predicament. Momma said that things done in the dark will come to the light and she's never wrong. Tallulah's background came to the light and instead of her getting tarred with it and embarrassed, I got hit. I don't get it. Hell, she was the hooker, the prostitute, the 'ho. Why is everyone treating me like **I'm** wrong?

I want Pierre to marry someone elegant. I thought Momma was pushing Patricia on him for a while, but she stopped. I wished she'd kept at it. I keep in touch with Patricia and she asks about Pierre every so often. She's what Pierre needs: educated, refined, independent and obviously interested in my brother. I would be **proud** to be her sister.

Tallulah is just as country and ghetto as the rest of our uncouth, embarrassing family.

_That's what your brother has been trying to teach you. This shit doesn't matter. Women in Atlanta look at me and see another thug. Black man, with braids and an Army background. They don't know how I clean up and what my background is. So I choose the women who talk to me when I look like a thug. Because they're interested in the __**man**__ they see, not the wallet. Not the degrees. Not the money._

Those women need to get an eye exam. No one, **no one**, could mistake Bobby for a thug. He's too elegant for that. The man moves in grace. A few moments speaking to him quickly highlights that he's cultured. He has a good background. He's educated (Morehouse! Morehouse, for Christ's sake!) and he speaks perfect French. I took four years of French just hoping to impress him with my proficiency!

I look at Bobby and I don't see his wallet or his degrees or his money. OK, I do but I see more than that. I see the results of **having **money, what having access to the best clubs and schools can do for a man. I look at Bobby and see the kind of man Pierre wanted us to marry. I see grace and culture and good manners. I see elegance and wisdom and a sexier than sin body.

I see the man who showed my brother how to achieve that sort of grace. Pierre used to walk like he clunked everywhere. Even after he came home from Basic, he moved like that. I noticed a few years ago that he'd started to roll his feet and I realized Bobby always did. It gave him a gait that looked like he was floating across a floor. My brother holds himself like Bobby. I clearly see Bobby's influence on him. If not for Bobby's privileged background, who would have taught Pierre those things?

Richard James suits? Charvet ties? Who in Lafayette could have taught Pierre about that level of fashion? Richard James is Savile Row! Fela Kuti? That's clearly Bobby's influence, his background, his education, which he shared freely with my brother. My brother took those lessons on and they filtered down within our family. Antoine used to dress like every other thug around here. He had a purple suit, for Christ sake! A purple suit! No one except preachers and pimps wear purple suits! Pierre came home in that custom Richard James and the next thing I know, Antoine has a conservative black Brooks Brothers suit. He even had a tailor work on his so it looks good on him. Bobby experimented with dreads (fashion mistake, but he still looked good); Antoine grew dreads.

My brother sounds as country as the rest of us when he's home but I've seen him operate around other people. He sounds cultured, like someone took a file to all his rough edges. Bobby has had just as much influence on Pierre as Lucille Graves did.

I look at Bobby Brown and I don't see a wallet. I see a man I'd make babies for for the rest of my life.

And he dislikes me.

I look up and my dorm is in front of me again. I look around. I walked the campus that fast. _Sigh_.

Back to the books.

* * *

Antoine's album debuted at number one. The entire family is shocked. Pierre and Bobby come over to Louisiana to congratulate him and throw him a party, minus the weed. They leave tomorrow for New Jersey. Business related. Something about a clearance.

Antoine grins. "You sure, little bro? Cuz I just got a sample of that good cush."

Pierre and Bobby laugh. "Hell no! The first time was enough," Bobby grins. "I got a contact high from your damn studio!" For some reason, Pierre laughs even harder at that and Bobby flips him off.

The guys start talking about the discarded tracks from the first album. Antoine plans to rework them with new rappers and see what happens. They're proud of this and I'm still at a loss to understand why.

I took a few of my precious dollars and bought Antoine's album. I have to admit it's good. I don't understand half of what's on it but it's smooth. It's hip-hop. It's not mindless rap. It's Late Registration with a southern edge. Less Funkmaster Flex, more Cee-Lo Green. Everyone is thrilled at Antoine's success and Momma has been cooking all his favorite meals all day. My fingers are raw from chopping, dicing, and baking. I don't want to make another pound cake all year.

Antoine looks over at me. "Hey Baby Shug, you got a hug for yo' big brother?"

"Will I get high if I hug you?"

Antoine straightens up. "Nah, but why chance it." He walks off and I look at Momma. Her face is set in stone and I dare not look at Pierre or Bobby. I look at my sisters, who are looking at me in pity.

"Come on, Chenae," Wilma says quietly. They motion for me to follow them out of the door and into the backyard. I clench my jaw, waiting for them to start yelling. Instead, Thelma and Wilma each hug me, me sandwiched between my sisters. I burst into tears and cry into Thelma's shirt.

"Why is everyone treating me like I'm wrong? I don't understand," I sob. "OK, so Antoine's a success now. Doesn't make up for the 30 years of bullshit he put everyone through. Doesn't wipe the slate clean. It doesn't make everything OK."

Thelma rubs my back and sighs. "We know baby, but here's the deal. How long you want someone to hold your mistakes against you?"

"What mistakes?" I ask, wiping my eyes.

Wilma snorts. "Well, we _could_ start with your future sister-in-law." I roll my eyes. "See, right there. How long should Pierre hold your nasty attitude against his future wife against you?"

"She's not good enough for him."

"And who gets to make that decision, Chenae?" Thelma says. "Pierre will have to live with her for the rest of his life. He's happy, happier than we've ever seen him. Why won't you accept that, at a minimum, she makes him happy?"

Because she's not good enough for him, that's why. Patricia's still interested. There's still time.

"It doesn't matter what we think of the decision. Pierre made it and he's standing by it, just like we all have to accept responsibility for the decisions we make in our lives. Now, with Antoine, Pierre apologized to him."

I look at them in shock. "No way," I breathe.

"Well," Thelma says, looking at Wilma, "he didn't so much apologize as make the effort to start ensuring Antoine was included in family things, and he's stopped giving him the cold shoulder. You see it. Antoine and Pierre are speaking and trying to get along. Lula encouraged him to forgive Antoine for the decisions he'd made 20 years earlier and give him a chance. That's what she wanted Pierre to do for her and they're in love. Pierre has his brother back—"

"**We** have our brother back," Wilma says firmly, "and no one should stop family from being close. When you said what you said a few minutes ago, that was cruel and unnecessary. We all know Antoine smokes weed. Bobby had just made a joke about it. You were just being a little pissant. You could be covered head to toe in shit and I'd still hug you if you wanted a hug."

My sisters rub my back and Wilma walks off. Thelma looks at me. "Shug, you need to get over your crush on Bobby." I look up in shock. Thelma smiles sadly. "Yeah, you're obvious. We all know. He knows. Honey, Bobby is Pierre's age. He's never going to see you as anything other than Pierre's baby sister." I'm shaking and Thelma takes me in her embrace again. "Start looking at some men your own age. They aren't all uncivilized. There are good men out there. But Bobby isn't the one for you." She presses a kiss to my forehead and walks back into the house.

I sit on the patio and choke back tears. I thought I hid it well. I didn't realize . . . I didn't realize . . .

I take it back. **This** is the most humiliating experience I've had this year.

* * *

Ever since Pierre cut me off, my money has been extremely short. I have enough to just take care of living. My car was driven to Momma's and left there. I take the Greyhound back and forth on a student discount.

Pierre has never been wrong. I found out who my friends were three days after I announced I was letting my apartment go. I tried to round up some help to move out but people came over, ate up all my food, half packed my boxes and didn't help me move at all. I was stuck trying to figure out how I was going to get it all done when Momma showed up with David and Barry.

I haven't always gotten along with my brothers-in-law, mostly because I saw them as leeches on Pierre, but they helped me repack the apartment and move on campus. Momma cleaned the apartment so I could get my security deposit back and Barry drove a U-Haul back home filled with everything I couldn't move into my dorm room and towing my car. I found out later that Antoine pitched in to prepay for a rental unit to store my stuff for a year. Barry and David passed me $500 dollars, Barry telling me, "That was part of my anniversary fund with my wife. We decided you needed it more. Don't expect another transfer from us because we aren't Pierre. Our money isn't like that."

I was grateful and, for the first time since I've known him, I hugged my brother without him having to initiate it. I've hounded that money ever since. I don't eat out and no one invites me to go. All those times I paid for a round of drinks or dinner and no one invites me to go out with them. The first few times I tried to suggest going to free places or less expensive places, everyone looked at me as if I'd lost it. I was suggesting the same places I used to scoff at when I was flush but needs must.

Christina took me to the side and asked what was up. I told her about Pierre cutting me off, about my money being short my last year, and needing to hold on to what I have. I thought she was my friend. I thought she'd keep that to herself.

Nope. She told every damn body. People now get around me and suggest going to the most expensive places to eat and drink, knowing I can't go. They smirk while doing it, so I know it's aimed at me. Girls I brought into the chapter snicker at me since I'm not balling like I used to.

Men on this campus ignore me now. My manicure is a thing of the past, my hair has seen better days, and I'm no longer wearing the hottest outfits and shoes. Everything I have is last season right now and I remember Antoine once joking that any man who paid that much attention to fashion must be gay. Well, I'm not sure but I'm not getting any play anymore.

I suppose, with my loss of money, I'm supposed to be desperate now because hoodrats are now sniffing around me, trying to get me to give it up to them. _Sniff_. No thank you. My brother's lessons still hold. I see why he preached respect for body and self all the time. The girls in this dorm have boyfriends who damn near live in and I constantly wake in the middle of the night to moans and sighs. It's irritating when I'm handling that by myself and always have. Worse? If I step out in the middle of the night to walk to the vending machine for a drink, they're eyeing me like I should be next. No thanks. Your dick isn't that interesting to me.

I **hate** Tallulah Jackson. If not for her, I'd still be my big brother's precious baby sister and he'd take care of me.

I look up and Antoine is right in front of me. He snorts and sits.

"Be smarter than me, Baby Shug."

"I **am** smarter than you."

He looks at me and laughs. "Nah, you me at 17. You stupid and full of yourself. Ain't a damn bit of difference between us 'cept you got book sense." I look at him coldly and he smiles. "I put other shit, other people, ahead of family. I shoulda done my time instead of making Pierre take the fall. That one decision, which seemed reasonable at the time, caused a near 20 years rift between me and my brother. You? You fucking up worse than me."

"How?" I'm really interested in this answer.

"Cuz Lula is for life. She ain't going away. She can get Pierre to consider shit like no one else can and they love each other. Do you really want Pierre to treat you like the family treated me for the rest of your life?"

"He wouldn't. He loves me." I'm certain of that.

Antoine snorts. "Which is why you'll never starve and you'll never have to trick but I'm telling you, Shug, you settin' yourself up for a painful fall." I look at him and he shakes his head. "Nah, you haven't fallen yet. You've been bumped onto your ass. I fell.

Momma kicked me out. None of you girls would talk to me. Pierre acted like I didn't exist unless all us was together and he did just enough to ensure Momma couldn't bust him for not acknowledging me. The rest of our family ain't good for shit. Who was gonna help my black ass? Where was my support? You a girl, so Pierre will always make sure you have just enough that you don't have to trick but you won't get shit else outta him."

"I'm not getting anything out of him now."

Antoine smiles. "You think not? We'll see." He stands to leave and I decide to say what I should have earlier.

"I bought your album."

He turns around. "Word?" He looks pleased.

"Yeah. Late Registration with a southern flavor. More worldly, deeper." I bite my lip and look at him. He looks pleased. "Great beats and good artists."

"And the misogynistic lyrics?"

I slump. "Weren't there."

"Exactly."

"Antoine?" He looks at me. "I'd buy album II, too."

* * *

Mrs. Jacobson is my advisor. Well, she's more than that. She's the deputy head of the department, my research professor, and my other big sister. We've had fun many a night putting together research papers and proposals, doing fieldwork, and going to conferences. Working with her is how I've managed to get published, another feather in my cap. Shirley Jacobson is my advisor, yes, but she's also a best friend. So when she called me to her office, I went, wondering if she had another study she wanted to work on.

It's nearly time for midterm grades and I'm struggling. I just need to make it through this year. Then I'll figure out a game plan. I noticed the Urban League is looking for academic case managers to help struggling high schools students achieve. I applied for that, realizing I met every qualification and, in my cover letter, pointed out that as a first-generation college student, I understood their unique needs. I'm hoping for a call-back. That should be an interesting job. _Those_ kind of kids I can work with, already motivated to do better and achieve. I may have found a group I can work with.

"Chenae, come in." Mrs. Jacobson moves a massive pile of folders from her chair, looks around, and sits them perpendicular on top of another pile of folders. I smile.

"Someday, you'll file those. I've watched you move that pile for three years now."

She frowns. "It couldn't have been that long."

I stand up and quickly pull one file from the stack. "This article on TB rates in Louisiana was written when I was a freshman. That's how I know when you just move the stack."

Mrs. Jacobson throws her head back and laughs. "OK, maybe I do need to get in here and clean a bit." She shakes her head. "Anyway, I need to talk to you." She sobers and closes the door. She turns her chair around to face me and looks at me closely.

"Chenae, I'm worried about you. I've been getting feedback from your practicum and internship supervisors and it's not as positive as I assumed it would be." I swallow hard and fight the tears. "Sweetie, you are my best student, but it's not translating in the field. I'm getting reports that although you show up on time, you are diligent in the work, and are personally a pleasure to be around, professionally you have no passion for this work. Do we have you in the wrong internship? Do we need to see if we can find you something different?"

My throat has closed and I have no answer for that. I shrug. Mrs. Jacobson pops me on my knee and I smile. She's been doing that for years.

"I need a verbal answer. Look, I'm not fussing at you. This happens. You came into social work fired up. You wanted to be like Lucille and I don't blame you. She was an outstanding woman, one of our best graduates, and I knew you were going to be special the moment you mentioned her name. But have you lost your enthusiasm for this?"

Again, I shrug. I have no answers. Mrs. Jacobson sighs and sits back.

"Fine. What does Pierre have to say?"

"He's not speaking to me much."

She stares at me in confusion. "_Pierre_? Why on earth not?"

I swallow hard and slowly start telling her the story of Pierre's move to Texas, his new fiancée (only mentioning that she has a less than desirable background), my discussion with Lula, and I gloss over the disastrous lunch at The Cheesecake Factory. I finish with my discussion with Pierre the day he cut me off and I'm sobbing by the time I get to the end.

Mrs. Jacobson holds me in her embrace and pats my back as I cry. "Oh baby. It's been a few tough months for you, huh?" I sniff and she smiles and hands me her box of Kleenex. "OK, I'm going to put on my licensed counselor hat and tell you what I think, OK? Ready to hear me out?"

I shrug. "Sure. You can't say anything worse than what my entire family has said."

Mrs. Jacobson smiles. "Don't be too sure about that." I smile. "OK, here's what I think. First, I agree with your family." I slump. "You owe your brother an apology. He fell in love. He's happy. You should celebrate that and get to know the outstanding woman he's chosen. It doesn't matter that her background is not as good as you hoped it would be. Everyone has something to teach someone else." She smiles. "Have you ever known your brother to misjudge someone? Be fooled into thinking someone is better than they really are?" I shake my head. "Then what makes you think he isn't well aware of all this woman's faults and liabilities? Do you think he's been fooled into this engagement?"

I bite my lip and think. No, Pierre's ability to size someone up is legendary. Even his partner, Señor Scary, relies on it. I sigh. "No. I'm confident that he's investigated her."

"And he still loves her?" I nod. "Then she's quality. Your brother, from all you've ever told me about him, only picks quality. There's something about this woman you're overlooking and you need to find out what it is."

"She wants to go into social work," I mutter.

"Really?" Mrs. Jacobson looks pleased. "Why?"

I sigh and level about Tallulah's background. Mrs. Jacobson whistles.

"Tough break. Tough life. And now she wants to help others?" I nod. "Then she **is** extraordinary."

I look up sharply. "Why? Why do you think that after hearing she was a prostitute?"

Mrs. Jacobson looks at me oddly. "Because most women who were once in street life deny it ever happened. They stay far away from the reminders. They don't want their pimps or former clients to find them. It's an embarrassing period in their life they usually want to forget. Your future sister-in-law doesn't care, not if it means she could help someone else. It takes strength and true character to ignore the rumors someone whispers about you and focus on others."

I open my mouth to argue that point but I have to shut it fast. She just described Momma in that last sentence. No wonder Momma loves Lula. They're alike in that. I sigh. "Second?"

"Second, your brother cut you off for your actions. Tallulah had nothing to do with it."

"But—"

"Tallulah had **nothing** to do with it," Mrs. Jacobson repeats firmly. "She was the catalyst, but not the reason, Chenae. You'd pushed your brother's buttons too far. He asked you to respect her and you didn't. I'm going to ask you to do this. Put your mother in Tallulah's place during that lunch at the Cheesecake Factory. Were your actions, and those of your friends, still appropriate?"

A red haze settles over my vision before I remember where I am. "No. I would've beaten the crap out of Christina and Amitrice."

"But it was acceptable for Tallulah?"

Crap. I'm not enjoying this conversation.

"You see, your brother treated those incidents in the same manner. The woman he loved, regardless of whether it was your mother or Tallulah or Wilma or Thelma, was attacked and _you_ were the instigator. So he punished you."

For the first time since Pierre cut me off, I get it. I truly do understand. If that had been Momma being attacked by Anjette and her cronies, I would have pitched a fit. I nearly did once, before Pierre took care of the problem in his usual calm, brilliant way.

"Now, I'm going to switch tracks here. Tell me why you want to be a social worker and don't refer to Pierre or Lucille in the explanation."

I sit back and think. The clock ticks. Mrs. Jacobson shuffles papers. I think.

"Can't come up with a brilliant response?" she teases. I shake my head.

"What's the University motto?"

"Not for one's own self, but for one's own."

"The School of Social Work truly lives and breathes that. We do the work that others don't want to do. We help those in distressed situations. We train men and women to help and shepherd those in crisis." She looks at me closely. "This doesn't excite you, does it?"

I'm scared to shake my head but I finally do. She nods.

"I've worried about that for the past year. When we talk, I notice the enthusiasm you have for business matters, for management and entrepreneurship. I notice the love you have for the stock market and CNBC. I've wondered why you didn't become a business major and thought, 'Well, maybe that's a hobby and this is her passion'. I see now I was wrong. I should have encouraged you to change your major last year." She sits back and sighs. "Now, what are we going to do?"

* * *

I trudge back to my dorm room. I have no idea what to do and neither did Mrs. Jacobson. I take a quick shower and pull the books. This 3.85 doesn't maintain itself.

Two hours later I'm tired again. Mrs. Jacobson's words are stuck in my brain.

_It takes strength and true character to ignore the rumors someone whispers about you and focus on others._

_What makes you think he isn't well aware of all this woman's faults and liabilities? Do you think he's been fooled . . ._

_Professionally you have no passion for this work._

I pick up my phone.

"Momma?"

"Hey, Shug! How's college?"

"It's fine. What's going on at home?"

Momma launches into the home gossip. Antoine's studio is booked solid so he's had to raise rates. He's thinking of getting a business manager. Pierre is busy in Charlotte. Tallulah's still in New Jersey, packing to move to Texas and he's moping. I smile at the idea of my big brother moping.

Bobby had a date with Patricia. She's in love. Bobby? Momma doesn't think Patricia is the one for him.

"He didn't look excited to see her. I don't think he can take all the religion. He tole me he was a non-practicing Baptist. Pierre and Lester asked him what that was. He said it's a Baptist who remembers he's one when he's in a foxhole."

I laugh at that. Sardonic wit. I add that to the list of Bobby's perfections. Is it wrong of me to be relieved that his date with Patricia didn't work out? I like Patricia but Bobby is mine.

"Wilma's been made the night supervising nurse at work and Thelma is doin' fine. How about you, baby?"

I sigh. "I'm OK, Mommy."

I can hear my mother thinking. 'Mommy? Uh oh.'

"What's really wrong, Shug?"

"I talked to Shirley Jacobson today. The reports from my fieldwork aren't that great. I show up on time, I do the work, but everyone is reporting I have no enthusiasm for the work."

"Ooooh . . . OK, are you in the wrong thing for you?"

"Yes. We both realized I should have been a business major." I sit my books aside. "I don't have a passion for this."

"Then why did you do it? Why choose social work?"

I sigh. Mrs. Jacobson and I discussed this for hours yesterday. I went through boxes of Kleenex but we finally got an answer. "I did it because Pierre's pride in me meant more than anything else. I never wanted to disappoint him. Mrs. Lucille made such a difference in his life. I chose that instead of following my heart and doing what mattered to me."

"Oh baby …" Momma's voice is soft. "He would have been proud of you no matter what major you chose." I'm crying silently. I know that now. Pierre's support of me has never depended on me doing or saying anything for him, just my achievements and what I accomplished. It hurts that he's really not speaking to me like he used to. "So what are you going to do?"

"Well, my scholarships can't be extended, so I have to finish in social work. On the upside, I got a call from the Urban League here. The case manager job I applied for is mine and it's something I like. Working with kids to make college standards. I think I'll do this for the year and finish the year, then figure out my next move."

"OK. Well, Antoine is headed your way this weekend. Why don't you talk it over with him?"

"Why?" I stare at my phone in confusion.

"Antoine is a businessman. He should be able to help you. Maybe both your brothers can help you, if you get Pierre on the phone. You need to start working on your plan now."

"OK …"

"Call Antoine tonight. I know he's gonna be busy in New Orleans this weekend, so see if you can get some of his time. Make sure you do that, Chenae."

"Yes, Momma."

"Bye, baby. Study hard! I love you."

"I love you too, Momma." _Click_.

Well, if nothing else, talking to my momma refreshes my spirit. I need to go to church this weekend and get a good refill. Maybe that's why I'm so down. I need a Jesus refill. I dial Antoine.

"'Sup?"

"Is that really how you answer the phone?"

"It is when I know who's calling. Need something, Baby Shug?"

"Yeah." I wonder how to ask Antoine for help. This is a first. "Um. Well . . ."

"Spit it out. These minutes ain't free yet."

I grin. Don't I know it. "I need help."

"And you calling me? Shiiiiiiiiiit, you must need a fucking miracle."

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet. I need a game plan."

"Game plan? I'm good at game plans. What's up?"

I give Antoine the quick recap. He whistles. "You decent?"

"Yeah."

"Aigh. I'll be at your school in 20 minutes."

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the Dirty, scouting talent. Get dressed and get to the gate. I don't feel like being stared at by students." _Click_.

I quickly pull a pair of blue jeans, some cute flats, and my belted trench. I hurry down to the gate and wait. Antoine pulls up in an Impala and we drive off.

"Aigh, level. No bullshit, Chenae."

I sigh and start telling him about my discussion with Mrs. Jacobson about my future in social work. We end up at Boucherie, a favorite of mine, classy and upscale. I look at Antoine. "My money's too short for this."

He grins. "I see you already growing up a little. Nice of you to automatically assume that big brother's not footing the bill. If I'd been Pierre, you would not only have assumed it, you would have directed me here." I frown and punch his arm. He laughs. "It's cool, Baby Shug. I got it. Come on."

We step inside and I wilt. My old gang is here. I look at Antoine, who smirks. "Damn shame they didn't invite you. Why not?"

I roll my eyes. "You already know."

His face is serious. "And now you do too. Now that you 'ain't got shit', they ain't got time for you. Been there, know that. Remember this feeling. Always."

I swallow hard and nod. We're seated close to my old crew. I nod as we pass and they stare in shock. I push away the menu. I already know what I'm getting. Antoine takes a look and decides quickly. We order when the waitress comes around for the drink options.

Antoine and I are discussing my case manager job when a shadow falls across the table. I look up and it's Christina and Amitrice.

"Chenae!" I nod and they smile. "How great to see you." They turn to Antoine, eyes wide. "Are you Antoine LaPierre?" He nods. "Oh my God, are you two related?"

Antoine looks at me with an odd expression on his face. They look at me and I nod. "My eldest brother."

Half of my old crew is now surrounding us and they're staring at us in shock. "Wow," Christina breathes. She holds out her hand to Antoine, who takes it without smiling. "Mr. LaPierre, I loved your album! Are you working on another?"

"Yes, I am. Everyone, I need to have a talk with my sister. Thank you for the enthusiasm, but I'd really like some privacy right now."

Everyone murmurs apologies and compliments on the album before moving away. Antoine stares at me. "Why do I get the feeling that your 'friends' thought you only had one brother?"

"Dunno. I told them I had two brothers. I've never hidden or lied about you. I just never had much to say about you."

Antoine stares at me then nods. "OK, back to your problem."

The waitress brings my fried green tomatoes and Antoine's beef brisket. We're chowing down and Antoine is thinking and shooing people away from our table.

"Does this happen a lot?"

"Yeah. I thought it would be nice. It is, but not when I'm eating." I smile and tuck in. "Aigh, Baby Shug, this is what I think. You don't really wanna go into social work, right?" I shake my head. "Good time to figure that shit out. Anyway, this case manager job will be good for you, but you need to either get a job in management or go to B-school. Pierre ain't payin for it, so what's your plan? What you thinking?"

"I dunno. I just realized I'm in the wrong thing today."

"Well, I got a couple of ideas, but I want you to think on it. Really decide how you wanna live yo life. Other thing, how you gon' get to this job?"

I put my water glass down and swallow hard. "I'm still trying to figure it out."

"How much it pay?"

"$13 an hour."

"Then that's enough for you to afford to get your car."

"Not without paying for a campus parking pass and their steep rates."

"How much?"

"For the full year? Nearly a thousand."

Antoine chokes on his meal. He swallows some water and stares at me. "You shittin' me?"

I shake my head. "Nope. And I'm only allowed to park in Diboll garage."

"Fuck! Now that's a hustle," Antoine grins. "Imma get in the parking lot business."

I laugh. "So besides the fact that I can't pay for the parking pass, I still have to put gas in the car. I did the math. Assuming no taxes are taken out, I'm making $300 a month. Take $100 out for gas and that's $200 a month. I'd end up working for the parking permit. If they take taxes then it's ridiculous."

Antoine nods. "Nice. You did the math. You factor in tickets, insurance, car washes, trips to Momma's, cuz you and I both know that the moment you get your car, you'll burn the highway up again to see her"–I grin– "and the maintenance?"

I slump. "Shit."

Antoine laughs. "Think about it. Cars ain't cheap. The job is good. You better think about how you gon' manage it." He orders the Krispy Kreme bread pudding (my favorite!) and smiles.

"Welcome to the school of hard knocks on the ass, Baby Shug. You just gettin' started."


End file.
